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The  Apt  or  HoME-riAKiNG 


IN  CITY  AND  COUNI  PY— IN  MANSION  7WD  CO  ITAGE 


By  Mapgaret  E.  Sangstep 

Author  of  "  Home  Life  Made  Beautiful,"  "  The  Art  of  Being  Agreeable," 
'  Poems  of  the  Household,"  "  Easter  Bells,"  Etc. 


A  Mother's  Lullaby 

Sleep  sweetly,  my  baby, 

Tby  mother  is  here. 
No  chill  wind  of  evil 

Thy  rest  shall  come  near. 
Oh  !  soft  is  thy  cradle, 

y4nd  warm  is  thj>  nest. 
Of  all  life  has  brought  me 

I  count  thee  my  best. 

Sleep  softly,  my  baby, 

God-given  to  me. 
The  angels  are  watcbing 

Thy  mother  and  thee  ; 
Sleep  safe,  little  darling. 

As  bird  in  the  nest. 
The  love  that  came  with  thee 

Sings  sweet  in  my  breast. 

—  MARGARET  E.  SANQSTER 


BCAUTirULLY  ILLUSTRTTTCD  WITH  NEARLY  200  ENGRAVINGS 


NEW  YORK 

THE   CHRISTIAN   HERALD   BIBLE   HOUSE 

1808 


Copyright,  1898,  LOUIS  KLOPSCH. 


TO  ONE  BELOyED 

AS    CHILD,    MAIDEN  AND    MATRON 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND 

Elizabeth  M.  Campbell 


(3) 


FOREWORD. 


To  the  Gentle  Reader: 


THIS  book,  which  has  grown  day  by  day  since  I  first  thought  of  it,  till  it 
has  reached  its  present  goodly  size,  is  meant  for  you,  Gentle  Reader, 
as  a  help  on  the  way  of  life.  The  old  simile,  familiar  to  us  from  child- 
hood of  life  as  a  journey,  often  uphill,  sometimes  down  the  valley,  now  and 
then  across  a  level  land,  is  ever  more  appropriate  as  experience  crowns  antici- 
pation or  disappointments  throng,  or  love's  young  dream  makes  glad  the  spring- 
ing steps.  Old  and  young,  blithe  and  sad,  rich  and  poor, 
prosperous  or  struggling,  we  are  fellow  pilgrims,  comrades 
on  the  road,  and  our  goal  is  the  Father's  House  at  last. 
In  these  simple  talks  about  husbands,  wives,  parents,  chil- 
dren, money,  housekeeping,  business,  study,  health,  rest, 
and  work,  I  have  kept  in  view  the  fact  that  we  are 
Christian  pilgrims,  disciples  around  the  Master,  and  those 
whom  He  has  honored  by  calling  them  Friends. 
May  this  book  make  life  happier  for  all  who 
read   its  pages! 


(S) 


— i      CONTENTS.      , 


u^m*- 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I.  Falling  in  L,ove 17 

The  Courtin' 26 

II.  Wooed  and  Married  and  A' 29 

Wedded  Hands - 40 

III.  Settling  the  House 41 

IV.  Color  and  Light 47 

V.  Furnishing  the  Bedrooms 54 

Three  Baskets     59 

VI.  The  Dining  Room     62 

VII.  The  Library 68 

VIII.  The  Back  Door : 77 

IX.  An  Open  Fire     79 

Uncanonized  Saints 83 

Strength  for  the  Day 84 

Consecration 84 

Trust      85 

X.  The  Door- Yard 86 

XI.  The  Kitchen 92 

XII.  The  Parlor 1 97 

XIII.  Order  and  System      98 

XIV.  Ourselves  and  Our  Neighbors 106 

XV.  The  Management  of  Money 112 

The  Sin  of  Omission 121 

XVI.  Boarding  versus  Housekeeping 123  . 

XVII.  Florilla's  Sanitarium 130 

(7) 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER.  PAGK. 

XVIII.  Music  in  the  Family 136 

XIX.  The  First  Baby 141 

XX.  The  Nursery  Group 148 

XXI    Going  to  School 154 

In  School  Days 157 

The  Old  Schoolhouse 159 

XXII,  The  Spoiled  Child i6i 

A  Fellow's  Mother 164 

XXIII.  The  Children's  Sunday 165 

The  Dear  Little  Heads  in  the  Pew .  171 

XXIV.  Mothers  and  Sons 173 

XXV.  Fathers  and  Daughters 183 

XXVI.  A  Talk  About  Dress .  188 

XXVII.  Anniversaries  in  the  Home 194 

The  Dear  Little  Wife  at  Home 199 

Comfort 200 

XXVIII.  The  Family  Medicine  Chest 202 

XXIX.  A  Chat  About  Photographs .210 

An  Episode  in  Child  Life 211 

XXX.  The  Kiss  Deferred 214 

A  Way  of  Escape 219 

Good  Intentions 220 

The  New  Year        221 

XXXI.  The  Daily  Papers 222 

A  New  Year's  Tale 223 

A  Chat  with  Country  Girls .    .            226 

Little  Girl's  Life  in  1782 229 

Unconscious  Revelations 229 

Wasting  Our  Time 231 

The  Everlasting  Love      ... 233 

How  to  Entertain  a  House  Party 234 

When  to  Do  Right 236 

Singing  in  the  Rain 237 

Dancing  in  the  Street ...           .    .  239 


CONTENTS.  9 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XXXI.  Thanksgiving     ....        240 

XXXII.  Fault-finding 242 

XXXIII.  Our  Aunt  Mary 247 

XXXIV.  The  Art  of  Living  Together 257 

XXXV.  Stepmothers    .... 255 

XXXVI.   Love  of  Country 260 

Through  Death  to  Life 263 

A  Patriotic  Woman 265 

A  Gift  to  the  Lord 265 

Frances  Willard  and  the  Reporter 266 

XXXVII.  College  or  Business 267 

XXXVIII.   Homes  for  Spinsters 269 

Returning  Spring 280 

A  Child's  Service              281 

When  St.  Chrysostom  Prayed 282 

Heaven      283 

I  Knew  Thou  Wert  Coming  .    .            284 

Rise,  Flowers 285 

Overcometh 2S6 

God  is  Good 287 

XXXIX.  What  Has  Become  of  the  Old  Ladie:; 290 

Politeness  in  Children .  291 

Reciprocity 294 

The  Pleasant  World  of  Books 299 

Why 300 

God's  Providence 302 

The  Old  Sweethearts 304 

XL.  Our  Love  of  "Things" 305 

XLI.  A  Duty  to  the  Commimit}'      307 

XLII.  Notable  Examples  of  Happiness  in  Wedded  Life 311 

XLIII.  Religion  in  the  Home 317 

XLIV.   Odds  and  Ends  for  Everybody 320 

Laugh  a  Little  Bit 325 

In  Blueberry  Time 325 


lo  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XLIV.  A  Prayer  for  Little  Things      326 

Frances  Willard's  Counsel  to  Girls 327 

Gifts  to  God 328 

Summer  in  the  Soul 328 

A  Ivove  Song 329 

Saved  by  Grace 330 

Camp  Echoes 332 

The  Little  Red  Stamp         .    .    .  " 332 

XLV.  Trouble  and  Sorrow 334 

Remembrance 336 

Hide  Thy  Grief 337 

The  Aloofness  of  Grief 337 

Practice  What  You  Know 340 

XLVL  The  Futility  of  Worry 343 

XLVIL  Our  Dear  Ones  Gone 347 

An  Easter  Idyl 353 

The  Sweet,  Long  Days 354 

Our  Lost 356 

XLVIII.  The  Sunshiny  Household 358 

At  the  Parting  of  the  Ways 363 

The  Mother's  Room 364 

Sage  !  Thyme  !  Sweet-Marjoram  ! 365 

Polly's  Coming  Home 367 

XLIX.  What  to  Do,  and  How  to  Do  It 368 

L.  Church  Work 373 

A  Blessed  Opportunity 376 

The  Children's  Day 376 

LI.  Merry  Christmas  at  Home 379 

A  Christmas  Carol 385 

The  Christmas  Stocking 386 

The  Indwelling  Christ 387 

When  the  Holidays  Are  Over 388 

Spring-Time 389 

His  Only  Friend 391 


CONTENTS.  II 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

hi.  The  Angel's  Watch 391 

The  Portrait 392 

The  Comfort  at  the  Core 392 

Comfort  One  Another 393 

LII.   Open  Secrets 394 

Thanksgiving 395 

LIII.  The  Cost  of  Living 398 

IvIV.   Correspondence 403 

LV.  Ill-Temper  at  a  Premium 407 

Some  Suggestive  Thoughts 411 

LVI.   Domestic  Training 412 

LVII.   Education  for  Life 421 

Jean's  Clear  Call 426 

LVIII.   The  Treatment  of  Casualties  and  Small  Ailments 433 

LIX.  Just  Among  Ourselves 444 

Occupations  for  Little  Children 446 

How  We  Behave  at  Home 449 

Useful  Age 451 

Under  God's  Order 453 

An  Antique 454 

The  Summer  Girl 455 

A  Woman's  Delight 456 

Requiescam 458 

Worth  Remembering 458 

The  Ministry  of  Angels 459 

If  the  Lord  Should  Come 461 

"Even  So,  Come,  Lord  Jesus" 462 


-4     ILLUSTRATIONS,    h 


PAGE. 

"  In  the  spring-time  a  young  man's  fancies  lightly  turn  to  thoughts  of  love  " 19 

"  The  true  woman  is  not  afraid  of  poverty  ;  she  desires  to  share  the  fortunes  of  the  man 

she  loves"      , 20 

*****  And  then  the  soldier  went  back  to  the  war  " 21 

"  Even  engaged  people  should  not  be  too  selfish  " 23 

A  German  Marriage  Custom 31 

The  Gift  of  the  Bridegroom 33 

Nailing  Up  the  Rose-tree 35 

Departure  for  the  Honeymoon 37 

"  Wherever  a  true  wife  comes,  this  home  is  always  round  her  "  ...       39 

*' This  house  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  beautiful  meadow  with  trees  around  it  " 42 

"  The  wife  is  often  inclined  to  spare  her  husband  "      44 

"God's  free  air  and  simlight  coming  at  every  turn  " 49 

*' The  lamp  on  the  table  in  the  comer  " ....  51 

"One  large  room  on  ground  floor  answers  for  parlor,  dining  room  and  library  " 52 

"  The  dainty  pretty  daughter  of  the  house  " 56 

"  She  will  have  her  desk,  at  which  she  writes  her  letters  " 58 

"  It  is  they  who  are  storehouses  of  story  and  song  "      .    .  60 

His  Own  Place 63 

"  I  am  not  in  sympathy  with  the  old-fashioned  rule  that  forbids  them  to  speak  "      .    .    .    .  64 

Her  Few  Letters  Were  Spasmodic  and  Brief 66 

"  It  is  not  always  expensive  " 69 

"A  doctor,  a  lawyer,  a  clergyman  always  has  his  own  peculiar  working  library  "  71 

"  There  is  opportunity  if  you  have  low  book  cases  for  pretty  vases  on  the  shelf  " 73 

The  Ivy 75 

(13) 


14  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE. 

"  One  feeds  the  chickens  " 78 

Before  the  Firelight 80 

"  This  great  fire-place  which  cast  its  eerie  redness  over  the  dark  kitchen  " 82 

Apple  Blossoms 87 

"  If  you  have  a  tree  or  two,  you  may  have  apple  blossoms  " 88 

"Flowers which  are  beautiful  in  a  door-yard  " 89 

"  In  the  kitchen  let  the  provision  for  convenience  be  ample  " 93 

In  the  Kitchen 95 

"  Needful  stitches  " 99 

"  Where  there  are  invalids  " loi 

Helping  Granny 103 

"  Every  child  should  have  some  little  task  " 105 

Father's  Little  Daughter 107 

"  If  a  maiden  is  to  be  married  " 109 

Her  First  Ivetter  Home no 

"  Fidelia's  husband  was  devotion  itself " 117 

"  Lives  under  one's  own  vine  and  fig  tree  " 124 

"  Cannot  be  seen  at  any  time  out  of  her  own  room  in  negligee  costume  " 125 

"  And  you  must  be  always  in  dress  parade  to  some  extent  " 126 

"  It  is  well  to  have  a  formula  " 128 

"  She  went  down  the  long  village  street,"  etc 132 

Landscape 133 

Music  in  the  Family 137 

First  Baby 142 

"The  coming  of  the  first  little  one  marks  an  event  of  great  importance" 144 

Happy  Childhood  Days             146 

"  When  instead  of  one  beloved  child  the  mother  has  several  little  ones  " 149 

In  the  Nursery 15a 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep  "      , 152 

The  School-Room , 155 

Waiting  for  Santa  Clans 162 

"  What  is  it,  Father?"  she  asked 163 

Christmas  Carols      167 

**  To  take  a  Sunday  walk  with  father  " 168 


ILLUSTRATIONS.  1 5 

PAGE. 

Pleasures  of  Meeting  Their  Teacher 170 

The  Mother's  Boy 175 

Helping  Mother 177 

"  No  boy  can  excel  him  in  foot-ball  or  at  tennis  " 181 

"  The  baby  girl  twines  her  arms  about  the  father  " 184 

"  Looking  very  dimpled,  rosy  and  beautiful  in  her  new  furs  " 186 

The  Roman  Style  of  Dress 189 

"  And  the  evening  party  and  receptions  " 191 

What  Santa  Brought 195 

Coming  to  Spend  the  Holidays 197 

Children's  Accidents  and  Tumbles 204 

"  What  do  you  think,  Doctor?" 206 

"  Call  on  the  family  doctor  at  once  " 208 

"  Mothers,  pray  for  your  children  " 212 

Looking  at  Her  Picture      227 

*' We  do  not  waste  time  when  we  take  outdoor  exercise  " 232 

"  School  or  college  friends  form  desirable  elements  for  a  successful  house  party  "     ....  235 

"  Hear  the  happy  little  bird  singing  through  the  rain  " 238 

"  The  one  thing  we  cannot  escape  is  growing  old  " 244 

Aunt  Mary's  Visit 248 

Loving  Attentions  to  the  Aged 253 

"  She  rushed  home  to  throw  herself  on  the  maternal  breast  " 257 

"  A  comfortable  and  attractive  home  "      .....  270 

Domestic  Pets 277 

Feeding  the  Pets 279 

Politeness  in  Children 292 

The  Old  Sweethearts 303 

Watch  by  the  Fever  Patient 308 

The  Trained  Nurse • 309 

"  Help  to  nurse  the  children  "     . 3^0 

S3^mpathy  and  Endearment      3^2 

Courtship 3^5 

Grace  Before  Meals     .    .        . 3^8 

The  Influence  of  a  Child 321 


i6  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE. 

Sorrows              335 

Don't  Worry,  Brother 344 

"Don't  worry  about  your  health  " 345 

The  Dead  Child  to  Heavenly  Rest      ....        -348 

The  Pasture  Land 355 

"  You're  taking  a  deal  o' trouble  " 361 

The  Reception 371 

The  Children's  Day  in  Summer 377 

Christmas  at  Home 380 

Spring-time 390 

"  The  most  beautiful  hands  are  those  which  work  for  others  " 400 

The  Letter 404 

A  Child's  Task 413 

"  Taught  to  make  her  own  frocks" 415 

Consider  the  Lilies  of  the  Field  How  They  Grow      419 

' '  Visiting  them  in  their  homes  " 427 

"  Then  came  a  brief  letter  " 431 

Don't  Be  Afraid,  Only  Hold  Fast 435 

Brush  the  Hair  Thoroughly 440 

In  the  Sick  Room 441 

The  End  of  Vacation  Days 445 

Pleasant  Times  in  the  Country 447 

The  First  Lesson 448 

The  Recognition  of  AflFection 450 

Let  Me  Help  You 457 


Art  or  Home  Haking. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Falling  in   Love. 

^^HERE  is  an  old,  old  fashion  which  has  never  yet 
gone  out  of  date,  and  which  has  as  many  followers 
in  this  end  of  the  century  as  it  had  in  the  begin- 
ning; or,  for  that  matter,  as  in  any  period  since 
the  world  began.  Every  generation,  as  it  takes 
its  turn  in  this  strangely  mingled  life  of  ours, 
passes  through  certain  phases,  one  of  which,  and 
not  the  least  important,  is  the  one  we  call  falling 
in  love. 

One  sometimes  wonders  why  we  say  falling, 
as  if  there  were  something  unexpected  and  pre- 
cipitate about  the  matter;  as  if  it  were  a  sudden 
thing,  against  which  precautions  cannot  well  be 
made  ;  as  if,  indeed,  it  were  a  thing  connected 
vaguely  with  misfortune  ;  but  Cupid  peers  over 
our  middle-aged  shoulders,  laughs  in  his  sleeve,  and  continues  to  aim  his  little 
darts  at  young  and  old,  and  still  his  happy  victims  go  on  falling  in  love.  One 
cannot  always  tell  how  it  happens.  The  poet  says  that  "  in  the  spring  a  young 
man's  fancies  lightly  turn  to  thoughts  of  love;"  but  love  has  all  seasons  for  its  own 
— spring,  summer,  autumn  and  winter  alike.  One  of  the  certain  things  in  this 
world  of  uncertainty  and  change  is  that,  come  what  may,  people  will  meet  and  be 
mutually  attracted  ;  will  fall  in  love  and  marry. 

Some  of  the  happiest  days  of  life  are  courting  days.  Of  all  futile  questions, 
the  most  so  is  this — Why  did  such  a  man  choose  such  a  woman,  or  why  did  this 
gay  girl  select  for  her  mate  so  grave  and  sober  a  man  ?  People  are  apt  to  like 
their  opposites.     The  tall,  strong  man  prefers  to  tuck  under  his  arm  the  little 

2  (17) 


i8  FALLING    IX    LOVE. 

slender  woman;  the  short  woman  does  not  mind  looking  up  sometimes  to  quite  a 
height ;  the  short  man  chooses  a  young  grenadier  of  a  woman.  Equally,  the 
blonde  and  the  brunette  seek  one  another.  The  law  of  love  seems  to  go  by  con- 
traries. The  impulsive  and  impetuous  person  likes  the  calm,  staid  and  deliberate 
one  and  vice- versa. 

Verj'  slight  things  are  sufficient  for  love's  beginnings.  A  girl  puts  on  a 
pretty  gown,  knots  a  blue  ribbon  at  her  throat,  sticks  a  flower  in  her  belt,  and 
goes  lightly  and  thoughtlessly  along  her  way,  and  that  day  a  man  happens  to  see 
the  bright  cheek  and  the  blue  ribbon,  and  loses  his  heart.  We  have  all  heard  of 
the  maiden  who  tied  her  bonnet  under  her  chin  and  tied  a  young  man's  heart 
within,  and  most  of  us,  when  we  remember  cases  of  love  at  first  sight,  see  that 
what  was  so  apparently  accidental  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  matter.  As  a 
rule,  young  people  do  not  say  to  themselves,  "Go  to,  I  will  seek  a  mate."  On 
the  contrary,  they  are  won  by  some  slight  thing  ;  some  grace  of  manner,  or 
charm  of  speech,  a  dimple,  a  blush,  a  soft  word,  and  before  they  know  it,  all  is 
over  with  them,  so  far  as  love  is  concerned. 

"Love  is  strong  as  death,"  said  the  writer  of  the  song  of  songs,  and  no  truer 
word  was  ever  said  or  sung.  Of  all  forces  in  this  world,  love  is  the  strongest, 
and  the  true  love  of  man  for  woman  and  woman  for  man,  abiding  and  constant 
and  faithful,  is  the  most  beautiful  and  enduring  thing  in  life.  Let  no  one  persuade 
3'ou  that  there  is  anything  foolish  about  love.  Love  is  the  truest  wisdom.  Most 
unhapp3'  are  young  people  who  take  to  themselves  the  philosoph}-  of  the  cynic, 
who  are  frightened  at  small  means  and  fear  to  trust  to  time  and  the  strength  of 
one  another's  affection,  and  so  live  lonesome  and  loveless  lives.  Many  a  man 
loses  a  pearl  of  price  because  he  forgets  that  faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady,  or 
because  he  is  afraid  that  the  girl  he  admires  will  not  be  willing  to  share  his  daj' 
of  small  things.  Men  do  women  small  justice  in  this  regard.  The  true  woman 
is  not  afraid  of  poverty;  she  desires  to  share  the  fortunes  of  the  man  she  loves, 
and  it  is  little  to  her  that  she  will  not  have  fine  dresses  or  fine  furniture  or  a  wide 
house,  if  she  maj^  share  the  struggles  and  the  triumphs  of  the  one  who  seems  to 
her  the  best  of  all. 

Young  people  who  have  been  mutually  and  strongl}'^  attracted  to  one  another 
are  a  little  impatient  with  advice  from  older  ones,  unless  the  advice  happens  to  be 
exactly  in  line  with  their  own  wishes ;  and  yet  it  would  seem  as  though  parents 
who  had  watched  their  children  from  the  earliest  days  ;  who  had  taught  them, 
worked  for  them,  and  for  them  endured  many  self-denials,  might  be  trusted  to 
wish  the  best  for  their  children.  A  girl  should  at  least  take  her  mother  into  her 
confidence  when  she  begins  to  feel  that  some  man  who  has  hitherto  been  a  mere 
acquaintance  is  beginning  to  be  to  her  something  more.  When  there  is  a  strong 
opposition    to   a   match   on   the    part   of    relatives   on   either   side,    young    and 


In  the  spring-time  a  young  man's  fancies  lightly  turn  to  thoughts  of  love."     (19) 


20 


FALLING   IN   LOVE. 


inexperienced  girls  should  be  very  sure  that  they  are  right  before  they  resolve  to  go 
on  in  the  face  of  friendly  opposition.  Equally  sHould  men  accept  counsel  in 
a  kind  spirit.  I  have 
known  very  happy  mar- 
riages which  were 
rushed  into  in 
haste,  and  also 
some  very  unhappy 
ones,  which  might 
have  been  prevent- 
ed had  the  parties 


'The  true  woman  is  not  afraid  of  poverty;  she  desires  to  share  the  fortunes  of  the  man  she  loves. 


FALLING   IN   LOVE. 


2Z 


thereto  been  willing  to  wait  and  accept  good  advice  given  by  mature  and  loving 
friends. 

For  instance,  a  j-oung  man  on  a  business  journey  was  once  at  a  certain  way- 
station  on  a  railroad  when  a  beautiful  girl  entered  the  car  with  a  package  of 
school  books  in  her 
hand.  Sheseated 
herself  quite  near 
him,  and  the  man 
watched  with  admir- 
ing eyes  during  the 
miles  which  stretched 
between  several  sta- 
tions the  pretty  turn 
of  her  small  head,  the 
loveh-  curve  of  her 
ear,  and  the  thick  coil 
of  nut-brown  hair  low 
at  the  back  of  her 
head.  By  and  by  a 
certain  station  was  an- 
nounced,  and  the 
young  lady  alighted. 
The  young  man  also 
found  himself  at  the 
end  of  his  trip.  As 
he  stepped  to  the 
platform  a  friend  met 
him  and  at  once  pre- 
sented him  to  the 
maiden  whom  he  had 
been  watching,  say- 
ing, "Let  me  intro- 
duce you  to  my  sis- 
ter. ' '  Within  a  week 
these  young  people 
were  engaged  and  in 
one  month  from  that 
day  of  their  journey,  they  were  married;  and  for  forty  years  they  lived  together 
in  a  companionship  so  sweet,  a  comradeship  so  perfect,  that  wedded  bliss  in  their 
experience  made  earth  a  heaven. 


And  then  the  soldier  went  back  to  the  war. ' 


22  FALLING    IX    LOVE. 

In  another  instance,  during  our  Civil  War,  a  soldier  sitting  by  the  camp-fire 
one  night,  received  a  package  of  letters  and  read  them  by  the  flickering  light  of 
a  tallow  candle,  while  his  fellow  soldiers  sat  by  enviously-  watching  him.  Pres- 
ently, from  one  of  the  letters  fell  a  little  photograph,  the  kind  we  used  to  call  a 
carte-de-visite.  It  dropped  unnoticed  to  the  floor  of  the  tent  and  one  of  the  sol- 
diers picked  it  up,  glanced  at  it  and  saw  the  face  of  a  most  beautiful  girl.  He 
handed  it  to  the  owner,  w^ho  looked  up  from  his  letter  and  said,  "Ah  !  my  cousin 
Mildred.  How  sweet  of  her  to  send  me  her  picture  ! ' '  "Where  does  j-our  cousin 
Mildred  live?  "  was  the  question  of  the  man  who  had  been  fascinated  by  a  glance 
at  the  lovely  face.  "  In  such  a  place  in  Wisconsin,"  was  the  replj%  "and  when 
you  have  your  leave  of  ab.sence,  as  that  village  is  near  your  home,  I  will  give 
you  a  letter  of  introduction  to  her."  In  those  stirring  war  days  of  the  fife  and 
drum  and  bugle,  girls  were  not  slow  to  lose  their  hearts  to  our  gallant  boys  in 
blue  or  in  gray,  as  the  case  might  be.  Everywhere  a  woman's  heart  throbs 
quicker  at  the  sight  of  a  uniform,  and  if  it  be  a  uniform  to  which  she  is  loyal  and 
which  she  loves,  she  is  very  apt  to  think  the  man  who  wears  it  a  hero,  and  to 
refuse  him  little  within  her  power  to  give. 

Days  passed  and  the  leave  of  absence  came  ;  the  man  went  to  see  the  young 
maiden,  presented  his  letter  of  introduction,  and  proceeded  to  fall  violently  and 
with  headlong  speed  in  love  with  the  fair  girl.  His  love  was  returned  with  equal 
vehemence ;  the  courtship  was  very  short,  only  ten  days,  and  then  the  soldier 
went  back  to  the  war  and  the  maiden  remained  alone  at  home  with  an  engage- 
ment ring  upon  her  finger.  In  due  time,  she  went  to  him,  since  he  could  not 
come  to  her  ;  they  were  married  and  their  united  life  for  all  this  world's 
changes  and  chances,  ups  and  downs,  trials  and  triumphs,  began.  They  had 
really  known  each  other  ten  days — in  other  words,  they  had  not  known  each 
other  at  all.  Their  life  of  thirty  years  together  was  a  thirty-j^ears'  war.  They 
never  were  happy ;  they  never  were  suited  to  one  another  ;  their  whole  existence 
was  a  scene  of  storm  and  conflict,  of  petty  squabbles  and  undignified  quarrels. 
To  their  praise  be  it  said,  that  they  held  together  to  the  last ;  for  to  neither  of 
them  would  it  have  seemed  right  to  seek  separation  by  the  too  common  method 
of  divorce.     But  they  married  in  haste  to  repent  at  leisure,  poor,  unsatisfied  souls. 

The  fact  is,  whether  young  people  believe  it  or  not,  that  courtship,  whether 
long  or  short,  does  not  necessarily  make  people  well  acquainted  with  each  other. 
A  man  or  a  girl  who  is  in  love  idealizes  the  other  party.  Ralph  invests  Jennie 
with  qualities  she  never  dreamed  of  possessing;  Jennie  has  an  idea  that  Ralph  is 
the  soul  of  all  honor,  truth  and  chivalry.  He  may  be  a  very  commonplace  fellow, 
but  she  will  not  admit  it ;  she  may  be  a  very  ordinary  young  woman ,  but  to  him 
she  is  little  short  of  an  angel.  The  light  that  never  was  on  sea  nor  land  is  float- 
ing round  them   both,  and  the  truth   is  that  they  very  often  do  not  know  one 


*^S5i3ti 


Even  engaged  people  should  not  be  loo  selfish. 


V^6J 


24  FALLING  IN  LOVE. 

another  well  until  they  are  married.  This  is  why  the  first  year  of  marriage  is 
often  so  hard.  People  are  finding  out  constantly  little  peculiarities  which  they 
did  not  dream  existed  each  in  the  other,  and  they  are  much  surprised  to  discover 
that  perfection  is  far  from  being  where  they  expected  to  find  it.  Therefore,  it  is 
as  well  for  those  who  fall  in  love  to  do  so  with  people  in  their  own  station.  The 
young  woman  who  consents  to  elope  with  a  man  of  whom  her  father  does  not 
approve  ;  who  has  not  had  her  advantages  of  education  and  training,  will  very 
likely  wake  up  too  late  to  wish  she  had  acted  with  prudence  and  foresight.  The 
young  man  who  selects  an  illiterate  bride,  attracted  merely  by  her  pretty  face, 
may  have  occasion  to  rue  the  day  that  he  ever  saw  her  and  lost  his  good  judgment, 
and  fettered  himself  with  bonds  of  steel. 

Falling  in  love  is  only  the  first  step,  and  there  should  be  time  enough  between 
this  and  the  final  arrival  at  the  altar  for  people  to  be  quite  sure  that  thej-  can 
stand  the  revelations  and  developments  which  are  sure  to  come  after  marriage.  A 
wise  man  once  said,  "When  I  marrj',  I  shall  seek  the  good  daughter  of  a  good 
mother,"  and  he  was  not  far  wrong,  because  a  girl  trained  up  under  the  guard- 
ianship of  a  gentle.  Christian  mother  will  probably  make  a  good  wife.  A  man  I 
knew  once  said  loftilj^  "When  I  marry,  I  shall  not  look  for  beauty,  or  grace,  or 
education,  but  for  true  piety;  favor  is  deceitful  and  beauty  is  vain  ;  but  a  woman 
that  feareth  the  Lord,  she  shall  be  praised."  This  lofty  sentiment  was  received 
by  the  sisters  of  the  youth  with  ill-concealed  amusement,  for  they  knew  him  to 
be  very  susceptible  to  the  charm  of  a  beautiful  face  ;  as,  indeed,  it  is  only  a  credit 
that  a  man  should  be.  They  took  pains  to  indicate  to  him  a  woman  of  admirable 
religious  character,  but  as  homely  as  a  hedge-fence,  and  as  clumsy  as  an  elephant. 
They  said  to  him,  recalling  his  words,  that  there  W'as  the  wife  whom  he  would 
probably  like  to  win  ;  but,  no,  he  passed  her  by  with  indifference,  and  when  he 
married,  he  was  attracted  like  other  men,  by  a  trim  figure,  a  light  step,  a  bright 
eye  and  a  graceful  manner.     And  his  wife  was  a  credit  to  the  whole  connection. 

The  present  custom,  which  leads  young  people  when  they  go  about  in  society 
to  be  attended  by  an  older  friend  as  a  chaperone,  is  a  very  good  one.  There  are, 
of  course,  neighborhoods  in  which  the  bo5's  and  girls  have  grown  up  together 
from  childhood,  where  everybody  is  known  to  everybody  else,  where  there  is  not, 
perhaps,  the  same  need  for  care  in  the  intercourse  of  friends  that  there  is  in  large 
cities,  where  comparative  strangers  are  thrown  together ;  but  a  chaperone  takes 
nothing  from  the  pleasure  of  a  picnic,  an  excursion,  or  a  party,  and  if  she  be  a 
pleasant  woman  of  tact  and  true  gayety  of  heart,  she  adds  a  great  deal  to  the 
interest  of  the  occasion. 

Even  engaged  people  should  not  be  too  selfish.  They  may  not  always  desire 
to  be  in  the  presence  of  the  family;  but  they  should  not  too  exclusively  seek  one 
another's    company,    nor   desire   to   spend   evening    after    evening    entirely   by 


FALLING   IX   LOVE.  25 

themselves.  The  requirements  of  good  form  to-day  are  in  the  line  of  common  sense. 
It  is  not  for  a  girl's  health,  happiness  or  beauty,  to  remain  hour  after  hour,  evening 
after  evening,  in  the  company  of  one  whom  she  may  truly  love,  but  who  should 
not  take  her  entirely  from  her  parents,  brothers  and  sisters  until  the  time  conies 
when  they  are  to  cast  in  their  lot  together  and  become  husband  and  wife.  Nor 
should  she  be  submitted  too  constantly  to  a  severe  emotional  strain. 

Long  engagements  are  to  be  deprecated.  Quite  often  they  come  to  nothing. 
As  a  rope  stretched  out  too  long  grows  thin  in  its  weakest  part,  so  the  engagement 
which  is  protracted  over  years  finally  becomes  a  burdensome  thing,  or  the  love  of 
one  or  the  other  seems  to  wear  out  ;  and,  yet,  I  knew  a  couple  who  were  engaged 
for  forty  years.  They  never  married.  Promptly  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
evening  of  a  certain  night  in  the  week,  the  young  man's  horse  was  seen 
tied  at  the  gate  of  his  ladylove.  Time  passed ;  the  brown  hair  and  the 
golden  hair  both  grew  white ;  the  young  people  were  transformed  into 
middle  aged  and  then  into  old  people,  and  they  were  lovers  always,  he  treating  her 
with  a  grand  courtesy  and  politeness  ;  she  most  friendly  and  beautiful  in  her 
devotion  to  him  ;  but  thej^  never  married.  Nobody  knew  why.  It  was  supposed 
that  they  thought  that  while  each  had  money  enough  to  live  on  alone,  neither 
had  quite  enough  to  make  it  prudent  for  them  to  join  their  fortunes.  If  this 
were  so,  they  were  a  pair  of  cowards.  Nothing  mercenary  should  enter  in  to 
defeat  the  plans  of  true  love.  Love,  thank  God,  is  independent  of  dollars  and 
cents.  It  can  and  does  often  flourish  in  the  poor  man's  cabin  ;  it  sometimes  flies 
from  the  rich  man's  palace. 

One  word  more.  As  a  rule,  people  who  fall  in  love  with  one  another  should  not 
have  too  great  disparity  of  age.  We  hear  of  and  see  very  happy  marriages  some- 
times where  wife  or  husband  is  much  older  than  the  other.  As  a  rule,  however, 
it  is  unfortunate  for  a  man  of  fifty  to  fall  in  love  with  a  girl  of  twenty  or  twenty- 
five.  He  has  had  his  youth  and  his  time  for  pleasure,  and  cares  mostly  to  be 
quiet  and  hug  the  fireside;  the  wife  is  still  a  girl  at  heart  and  desires  some 
pleasant  excitement  and  change  of  scene.  Equally,  if  the  wife  be  the  older,  the 
husband  may  find  himself  almost  in  the  position  of  a  son  to  a  mother.  People 
should  be  as  to  age  somewhere  near  together.  The  difference  of  a  year  or  two,  of 
five  or  even  ten  years,  is  not  material  on  either  side,  although  it  is  better  that  the 
husband  should  be  the  older.  Women  grow  old  somewhat  faster  than  men  do 
and  their  chances  for  happiness  are  greater  if  the  wife  be  the  younger,  or  if  they 
be  nearly  of  an  age. 

To  look  at  life  from  the  same  standpoint,  to  have  interests  in  common,  to 
walk  cheerily  on  the  road  together,  keeping  an  equal  pace,  to  care  for  the  same 
things,  to  work  and  save  and  share  little  sacrifices  and  have  common  ambitions, 
and  to  grow  and  develop,  are  the  privileges  of  those  who  truly  love. 


26  FALLING   IX   LOVE. 

"Our  little  friends  try  to  shov/  how  much  they  love  us,  A  child  holds  up 
his  hands  high,  and  says,  '  I  love  j'ou  all  that  ! '  Well,  there  is  a  measure  of 
human  love  ;  there  is  a  limit — an  'all  that.' 

"A  little  bo}'  once  called  out  to  his  father,  who  had  mounted  his  horse  for  a 
journey,  'Good-bye,  papa,  I  love  you  thirty  miles  long  ! '  A  little  sister  quickly 
added,  'Good-bye,  dear  papa,  you  will  never  ride  to  the  end  of  my  love  ! ' 

"  This  is  what  Jesus  means  to  say  :  '  My  love  has  no  limit  ;  it  passeth 
knowledge. ' 

"  Paul,  who  knew  as  much  about  it  as  most,  says,  '  The  height  and  depth, 
and  length  and  breadth  ' — of  the  love  of  Jesus  Christ ;  it  '  passeth  knowledge.'  " 


The  Courtin'. 

God  makes  sech  nights,  all  white  an'  still 

Fur'z  you  can  look  or  listen, 
Moonshine  an'  snow  on  field  an'  hill, 

All  silence  an'  all  glisten. 

Zekle  crep'  up,  quite  unbeknown, 
An'  peeked  in  thru  the  winder, 

An'  there  sot  Huldy  all  alone, 
'Ith  no  one  nigh  to  hender. 

A  fireplace  filled  the  room's  one  side 
With  half  a  cord  o'  wood  in — 

There  warnt  no  stoves  (tell  Comfort  died) 
To  bake  ye  to  a  puddin'. 

The  wa'nut  logs  shot  sparkles  out 
Towards  the  pootiest,  bless  her  ! 

An'  leetle  flames  danced  all  about 
The  chiny  on  the  dresser. 

Agin  the  chimbley  crooknecks  hung, 

An'  in  amongst  'em  rusted 
The  ole  queen's- arm  thet  Gran'ther  Young 

Fetched  back  from  Concord  busted. 

The  verj'  room,  coz  she  was  in, 
Seemed  warm  from  floor  to  ceilin', 

An'  she  looked  full  ez  rosy  agin 
Ez  the  apples  she  was  peelin'. 


FALLING   IN   LOVE.  27 

'T  was  kin'  o'  kingdom-come  to  look 

On  sech  a  blessed  cretur; 
A  dogrose  blushin'  to  a  brook 

Ain't  modester  nor  sweeter. 

He  was  six  foot  o'  man  A  i , 

Clean  grit  an'  human  natur'; 
None  couldn't  quicker  pitch  a  ton 

Nor  dror  a  furrer  straighter. 

He'd  sparked  it  with  full  twenty  gals, 

He'd  squired  'em,  danced  'em,  druv  'em, 
Fust  this  one,  an'  then  thet,  b}-  spells — 

All  is,  he  couldn't  love  'em. 

But  long  o'  her  his  veins  'ould  run 

All  crinkly,  like  curled  maple  ; 
The  side  she  breshed  felt  full  o'  sun 

Ez  a  south  slope  in  Ap'il. 

She  thought  no  v'ice  hed  sech  a  swing 

Ez  hisn  in  the  choir; 
My  !  when  he  made  Ole  Hunderd  ring, 

She  knowed  the  Lord  was  nigher. 

An'  she'd  blush  scarlit,  right  in  prayer. 

When  her  new  meetin'-bunnet 
Felt  somehow  thru  its  crown  a  pair 

O'  blue  eyes  sot  upon  it. 

Thet  night,  I  tell  ye,  she  looked  some  ! 

She  seemed  to  've  got  a  new  soul. 
For  she  felt  sartin-sure  he'd  come, 

Down  to  her  very  shoe-sole. 

She  heered  a  foot,  an'  knowed  it  tu, 

A-raspin'  on  the  scraper — 
All  ways  to  once  her  feelin's  flew. 

Like  sparks  in  burnt-up  paper. 

He  kin'  o'  I'itered  on  the  mat, 

Some  doubtfle  o'  the  sekle; 
His  heart  kep'  goin'  pity-pat, 

But  hern  went  pity  Zekle. 


28  FALLING  IN   LOVE. 

An'  yit  she  gin  her  cheer  a  jerk 

Ez  though  she  wished  him  furder, 
An'  on  her  apples  kep'  to  work, 

Parin'  away  like  murder. 

"You  want  to  see  my  Pa,  I  s'pose?  " 

"  Wal,  no  ;  I  come  dasignin' — " 
*'  To  see  my  Ma?     She's  sprinklin'clo'es 
Agin  to-morrer's  i'nin'." 

To  say  why  gals  act  so  or  so, 

Or  don't,  'ould  be  presumin'; 
Mebby  to  mean  yes  an'  say  no 

Comes  nateral  to  women. 

He  stood  a  spell  on  one  foot  fust, 

Then  stood  a  spell  on  t'other, 
An'  on  which  one  he  felt  the  wust 

He  couldn't  ha'  told  ye  nuther. 

Says  he,  "I  'd  better  call  agin;" 

Says  she,  "  Think  likely.  Mister:" 
That  last  word  pricked  him  like  a  pin, 

An' — wal,  he  up  an'  kist  her. 

When  Ma  bimeby  upon  'em  slips, 

Huldy  sot  pale  ez  ashes, 
All  kin'  o'  smily  roun'  the  lips 

An'  teary  roun'  the  lashes. 

For  she  was  jes*  the  quiet  kind 

Whose  naturs  never  vary, 
Like  streams  that  keep  a  summer  mind 

Snowhid  in  Jenooary. 

The  blood  clost  roun'  her  heart  felt  glued 

Too  tight  for  all  expressin', 
Tell  mother  see  how  metters  stood, 

And  gin  'em  both  her  blessin'. 

Then  her  red  come  back  like  the  tide 

Down  to  the  Bay  o'  Fundy, 
An'  all  I  know  is  they  was  cried 

In  meetin',  come  nex'  Swndzy .— fames  Russell  Lowell. 


CHAPTER  II. 
Wooed  and  Married  and  A'. 

^ETTING  ready  to  inarr}-  is  a  very  practical  sort  of  undertaking, 
and  should  enlist  the  careful  thought  of  both  parties  in  the 
matter.  On  the  part  of  a  man,  it  implies  self-denial,  in  order 
that  he  may  save  enough  to  begin  the  new  home.  Perhaps, 
in  the  country  it  means  that  he  vi'ill  choose  a  site  for  a  house, 
clear  away  the  trees,  plant  the  fields,  and  have  what  seems  to  me 
O'  the  most  ideal  thing  in  the  world,   a  home  of  his  very  own  all 

ready  for  his  bride.  In  the  city,  the  man  will  put  by  as  he  can,  bit  by  bit, 
a  little  money,  so  that  when  the  time  comes,  he  may  be  able  to  pay  the  rent  of 
a  house,  furnish  it  and  have  something  ahead  with  which  to  begin  housekeeping 
for  two. 

Forethought  and  prevision  are  very  necessary  for  people  about  to  join  their 
forces  in  married  life.  The  man's  share  will  be  to  select  the  home,  furnish  it,  and 
be  ready  to  meet  whatever  expenses  come  in  the  way  of  rent,  taxes,  or  whatever 
expense  properl3^  falls  to  his  part.  If  by  joining  a  building  and  loan  association, 
or  in  some  other  similar  way  he  is  able  at  once  to  begin  the  buying  of  a  home  so 
that  he  will  have  a  place  where  the  family  life  may  begin  on  a  permanent  basis 
instead  of  in  the  nomadic  way  which  many  Americans  in  cities  find  necessary,  the 
family  will  be  better  off  from  the  start. 

On  the  part  of  the  bride,  careful  mothers  usually  see  that  she  has  a  good 
outfit  of  linen  in  all  that  is  necessarj'^ — sheeting,  pillow  cases,  towels,  napkins, 
table-cloths,  and  whatever  else  in  that  way  is  deemed  desirable.  In  French  and 
German  families  it  is  quite  common  for  the  mother  to  begin  early  in  her  daughter' s 
life,  putting  aside  here  and  there,  as  she  can,  something  for  her  daughter's  dowry, 
so  that  when  the  day  comes  for  the  girl  to  go  from  her  father's  house  to  that  of 
her  husband,  she  carries  with  her  a  good  outfit  of  all  household  linen.  In  some 
lands  it  is  of  her  own  .spinning  and  weaving. 

Brides  make  a  great  mistake  whet?  they  wear  themselves  out  and  spend 
a  great  deal  of  time  and  money  in  preparing  a  very  lavish  outfit  for  themselves  in 
the  way  of  personal  clothing.  One  would  think  to  see  the  great  supplies  of 
underclothing,  the  munificent  and  roj-ally  lavish  outfit  of  dresses  which  some 
brides  think   necessar}',  that  they  were  going  at  once  to  emigrate  to  countries 

(29) 


30  WOOED    AND    MARRIED    AND    A'. 

where  there  were  no  shops,  and  that  they  were  never  in  their  lives  expecting  to 
have  any  mone\'  to  buy  the  smallest  things  for  themselves  again.  A  girl  some- 
times arrives  at  her  wedding  daj-  thoroughlj-  worn  out  and  exhausted  both  in  lx)dy 
and  mind  by  the  incessant  sewing  and  planning  and  fitting  she  has  undergone  in 
the  hands  of  dressmakers,  and  all  because  she  has  thought  it  requisite  to  supply 
herself  with  quantities  of  finerj^  and  an  immense  supply  of  clothes  which  she 
reall}'  did  not  need.  A  modest  outfit  in  the  way  of  dress  is  all  that  any  bride 
needs,  whether  she  be  rich  or  poor. 

Every  bride  requires,  if  she  can  possibly  have  it,  a  pretty-  gown  for  the  great 
da}^  itself.  From  early  times  white  has  seemed  the  most  beautiful  color  for  a 
bride's  dress,  and  if  it  seem  reasonable  and  she  can  manage  it,  the  bride  .should 
leave  her  father's  house  in  elegance,  and  on  her  wedding  day  she  should  be 
beautifully  arrayed;  but  simplicity  and  beauty  are  not  alwa3'S  costly,  and  a  simple 
gown  plainl)^  made  will  set  off  a  3'^oung  girl  quite  as  fineh'  as  one  which  is  costly 
enough  to  stand  alone,  and  richly  wrought  with  pearls  and  trimmed  with  priceless 
lace.  It  is  alwaj'S  appropriate  for  a  girl  to  wear  her  traveling  gown  if  she  choose 
on  her  marriage  da}',  or  should  she  prefer  it,  the  dress  which  is  to  be  her  best  one, 
and  which  perhaps  may  be  a  beautiful  gown  of  silk  appropriately  trimmed.  The 
rest  of  her  outfit  will  depend  ver)^  much  on  where  she  is  to  live;  how  much  com- 
pany she  expects  to  receive;  and  what  her  work  in  life  will  be.  A  farmer's  wife 
doing  her  own  work  will  need  gowns  which  can  be  washed,  and  a  plentiful  supply 
of  aprons  for  her  work  in  the  kitchen  and  dairy.  A  girl  going  to  an  elegant  city 
home,  where  she  will  have  sen^ants  to  wait  upon  her,  will  need  beautiful  house 
dresses,  which  ma)'  be  as  daint\-  and  prettj-  as  she  chooses,  and  she  will  require 
also  a  greater  number  of  changes  and  things  more  in  the  mode  as  ma\-  befit  the 
people  with  whom  she  will  associate. 

Every  woman,  if  she  can,  should  have  a  black  gown  as  part  of  lier  wardrobe, 
either  of  cloth  or  of  silk.  There  are  man}-  occasions  when  one  needs  a  black 
gown,  and  there  are  few  occasions  in  which  one  cannot  wear  it  appropriate!}-  with 
a  little  trimming  to  brighten  it  up.  In  Mrs.  Ruth  McEnery  Stuart's  amusing 
story  called  "  The  Dividing  Fence,"  she  says  of  the  people  in  Simpkinsville  that 
on  all  occasions  a  black  alpaca  gown  in  hand  was  considered  an  admirable  thing  for 
a  woman  to  possess.  It  might  be  lightened  up  with  a  Valenciennes  ruffle  or  a  blue 
ribbon  or  a  red  ribbon  bow;  but  the  black  alpaca,  from  its  first  day  to  its  last, 
was  a  necessar}'  part  of  a  well-dressed  woman's  outfit.  In  that  most  charming 
book  of  J.  M.  Barrie's,  "  Margaret  Ogilvy,"  we  find  that  the  charming  and  beau- 
tiful old  lady  considered  her  black  silk  gown  the  one  part  of  her  outfit  which  she 
would  put  on  when  she  wished  to  make  a  good  appearance.  "Well,"  on  one 
occasion  said  her  son,  "how  would  you  dress  your.self  if  j^ou  were  going  to  that 
editor's  office?"      "Of  course,"  said  the  dear  old  lady,  "  I  would  wear  my  .silk 


32  WOOED   AND   MARRIED   AND   A'. 

and  my  Sabbath  bonnet."  In  vain  her  son  told  her  that  she  would  look  sweeter 
in  her  little  gray  shawl  and  her  bonny  white  cap.  She  shook  her  head  and  said 
positively,  "I  tell  you  if  ever  I  go  in  that  man's  office,  I  go  in  silk,"  The 
advantage  of  a  black  gown  is  very  great  for  those  who  cannot  afford  manj' 
dresses,  because  other  colors  are  remembered;  but  one  does  not  recall  very  much 
about  a  decent  black  dress  beyond  the  fact  that  it  served  its  turn  well. 

However,  I  did  not  mean  to  take  up  all  this  chapter  in  talking  of  such  things 
as  dress  and  furnishing  when  one  is  thinking  of  marriage.  When  you  really  con- 
sider it,  there  is  nothing  so  revolutionary  in  the  world  as  the  coming  together  of 
two  people  brought  up  in  different  families  and  under  different  influences,  to 
make  a  new  home  of  their  own.  John  has  been  accustomed  all  his  life  to  the  way 
his  people  look  at  everything;  his  father,  his  mother,  his  brothers  and  sisters  and 
aunts  and  cousins  all  have  their  own  ideas  about  life.  Mar}',  on  the  other  hand, 
has  come  from  a  different  set  of  people,  with  different  traditions,  and  her  people 
have  their  ways,  their  friendships,  their  modes  of  looking  at  life,  which  have 
insensibly  passed  into  her  blood.  John  and  Mary  must  start  out  for  themselves, 
and  they  will  form  together  a  new  household,  and  their  family  life  is  to  be  a 
thing  by  itself  and  quite  independent  of  what  either  has  known  before.  So  it  is 
just  as  well  for  John  to  make  up  his  mind  that  his  wife,  dear  and  lovely  as  she 
will  be,  is  not  going  to  be  his  mother  over  again;  and  Mary  may  as  well  remem- 
ber that  her  John,  though  in  her  eyes  perfect,  will  not  be  precisely  like  her  own 
father. 

For  the  first  year  the  two  will  do  well  to  keep  entirely  clear  of  relations  ni 
their  family  life.  It  is  never  a  good  plan  for  young  people,  if  it  can  be  helped, 
to  form  a  part  of  another  family,  nor  should  they,  except  where  there  is  some 
imperative  reason  for  it,  bring  in  fathers  or  mothers  or  other  relatives  as  an 
integral  part  of  their  home.  There  are  exceptional  reasons  sometimes  why  a 
widowed  mother  or  a  father  otherwise  to  be  left  solitary,  must  come  into  the  new 
home;  but  the  ideal  thing  is  for  a  husband  and  wife  to  begin  quite  by  themselves. 
Then  there  is  nobody  to  notice  when  they  have  little  tiffs,  nobody  to  take  the  part 
of  either.  Occasionally,  asperities  which  would  be  like  little  fires  easily  fanned 
into  a  flame,  die  of  themselves  if  the  two  are  alone. 

Before  marriage  both  parties  should  think  very-  seriously  of  the  fact  that  they 
cannot  live  any  more  only  for  pleasure.  There  must  be  on  both  sides  self-denial. 
In  return  for  the  self-denial,  there  will  come  a  great  and  hallowed  joy  in  life,  but 
self-denial  there  must  be.  Before  taking  a  step  which  is  irrevocable,  both  man 
and  woman  should  always  count  the  cost  and  decide  whether  or  not  they  are 
willing  to  give  it.  Marriage  is  in  its  best  estate  a  service  in  which  there  is  perfect 
freedom;  but  it  is  the  freedom  which  exists  within  well-ordered  bounds  of  law 
and  order. 


'■^■■■11 


THK    GIl-T   OK    THE    BRIDEGROOM. 


34  WOOED    AND   MARRIED   AND   A'. 

A  particular  part  of  fitness  for  happy  marriage  is  religious  faith.  I  once 
heard  a  good  minister  obser\'e  that  if  a  woman  married  a  man  whose  principles 
were  not  established  and  who  was  not  a  professing  Christian,  it  was  usually  in  her 
power  to  win  him  to  the  side  of  Christ;  but  that  so  far  as  liis  dbs^rv'ation  went,  a 
man  seldom  got  the  better  of  the  case  who  married  a  heathen  girl.  A  Christian 
man  united  to  a  woman  who  is  indifferent  or  averse  to  religion,  or  skeptical,  or 
who  holds  erroneous  views  on  the  most  vital  of  all  subjects,  will  probably  lose 
very  much  of  the  spirituality  of  life  and  fall  away  from  his  own  faith.  Husband 
and  wife,  to  gain  the  highest  there  is  in  marriage,  should  be  agreed  on  the  one 
great  subject;  and,  therefore,  before  the  time  comes  when  they  clasp  hands  and 
walk  together,  it  is  well  for  them  each  to  say  to  the  other,  we  will  walk  before  the 
LtOrd  in  unity.  As  a  rule  it  is  not  well  for  people  of  broadly  opposing  faiths  to 
marry.  A  Romanist  and  a  Protestant  do  not  harmonize;  the  Methodist  and  the 
Presbyterian  may  easily  sink  their  differences,  the  one  agreeing  to  give  something 
up  for  the  sake  of  the  other.  Whatever  the  form  of  religious  faith,  it  will  be 
well  for  the  two  who  are  about  to  marry  to  take  into  account  the  fact  that  from 
the  hour  of  their  union  they  are  no  longer  two,  but  one.  They  should  agree, 
therefore,  to  attend  the  same  church,  and  from  the  very  beginning,  they  should 
make  up  their  minds  to  enter  upon  church  life  and  to  take  upon  themselves  certain 
duties  with  reference  to  Christ's  work  in  the  world.  If  the  husband  be  already 
established  in  church  work  where  he  is  accomplishing  good  it  seems  most  fitting 
that  the  wife  should  accompany  him,  rather  than  that  he  should  leave  his  work 
and  go  with  her;  but  there  is  no  arbitrary  rule  in  a  matter  of  this  kind.  Usually, 
it  is  to  be  settled  by  common  sense  and  kindliness  and  mutual  helpfulness  and 
sacrifice. 

In  thinking  of  marriage,  each  should  determine  that  he  or  she  will  begin 
with  no  secrets.  I  have  sometimes  been  asked  whether  in  case  of  some  sin  in  the 
past,  or  some  wrongdoing,  it  would  be  right  to  bury  that  and  start  in  on  the  new 
life  without  an)'-  confession  or  revelation  of  that  which  is  a  grief  in  the  past  of 
one  or  the  other.  My  answer  always  is  that  there  can  be  no  happiness  which  is 
not  founded  upon  perfect  truth  and  candor.  Fortunately  and  happily,  few 
well-brought  up  people  have  any  skeleton  in  their  closets,  and  there  are 
no  troubles  and  trials  in  the  past  which  ought  to  be  revealed,  so  far  as 
their  own  persons  are  concerned;  but  wherever  there  is  anything  in  rela- 
tion to  any  member  of  the  family,  to  anything  which  has  to  do  at  all  with  the 
well-being  and  the  good  name  of  either,  let  there  be  no  reserves.  Confidence  is 
a  stepping-stone  to  happiness.  From  the  outset,  let  the  two  who  have  joined 
their  hands  know  all  that  there  is  to  be  known  each  of  the  other.  There  will 
then  be  no  danger  of  disagreeable  secrets  and  revelations  in  days  to  come.  It  is 
of  the  greatest  importance,   and  young  people  should  remember  this,  that  all 


36  WOOED   AND   MARRIED   AND   A'. 

through  youth  the  life  should  be  held  up  to  a  stern  and  rigid  standard  of  purity, 
so  that  from  the  very  first  these  two,  who  out  of  all  the  world  have  chosen  each 
other,  may  feel  assured  there  is  no  sin  to  interpose  a  barrier  between  them. 

By  this  I  do  not  mean  that  a  person  with  an  exaggerated  sense  of  duty,  and, 
perhaps,  too  sensitive  a  conscience  should  go  over  the  whole  chapter  of  life  that 
is  passed,  and  think  of  every  little  smile  and  word  and  innocent  flirtation,  as  if 
it  had  been  a  grave  transgression.  It  is  only  that  in  things  of  grave  importance 
and  interest,  which  have  affected  the  life,  there  should  be  no  reserves. 

This  obligation  to  candor  is  a  duty  equally  laid  upon  man  and  upon  woman. 
When  thinking  of  marriage  you  are  considering  a  sacrament. 

I  overheard  the  other  day  a  bit  of  conversation  between  two  j'oung  men  in  a 
public  conveyance  which  interested  me  very  much.  They  were  not  talking  in 
low  tones,  but  took  the  whole  car  into  their  confidence.  Said  one  to  the  other, 
"  I  have  not  arrived  at  the  point  where  I  am  willing  to  surrender  my  independ- 
ence, I  know  a  great  many  nice  girls  who  are  fine  to  have  for  friends  and  for 
helping  on  a  good  time;  but  I  have  not  yet  met  a  girl  of  whom  I  could  be  fond 
enough  to  think  of  spending  my  whole  life  with  her;  alwa3S  seeing  her  en  the 
opposite  side  of  the  table;  going  about  with  her  and  not  having  the  chance  of 
going  with  any  other  girl."  His  companion  remarked,  "Oh,  well,  there  is  plenty 
of  time  3'et.  You  are  j'oung,  and  when  you  meet  the  right  one  you  will  throw 
all  your  theories  overboard."  "Well,"  said  the  other,  "Whatever  I  do,  I  will 
never  have  a  long  engagement.  I  think  that  is  one  of  the  most  trying  things  a 
person  can  possibly  have."  In  this  I  quite  agreed  with  the  speaker,  as  I  have 
said  before. 

It  is  worth  while  to  reflect  that  constancy  is  an  essential  part  of  married 
happiness;  that  the  man  or  woman  who  is  married  can  no  longer  rove  from  flower 
to  flower,  a  bee  in  search  of  honey;  but  that  from  the  time  of  selection  the  part- 
ner for  life  is  to  be  the  one  who  receives  all  the  honor,  all  the  reverence  and  all 
of  the  exclusive  affection.     Ruskin  says: 

"  We  are  foolish,  and  without  excuse  foolish,  in  speaking  of  the  '  superiority  ' 
of  one  sex  to  the  other,  as  if  they  could  be  compared  in  similar  things.  Each 
has  what  the  other  has  not;  each  completes  the  other,  and  is  completed  by  the 
other;  they  are  in  nothing  alike,  and  the  happiness  and  perfection  of  both 
depends  on  each  asking  and  receiving  from  the  other  what  the  other  only  can 
give. 

"  Now  their  separate  characters  are  briefly  these:  The  man's  power  is  active, 
progressive,  defensive.  He  is  eminently  the  doer,  the  creator,  the  discoverer, 
the  defender.  His  intellect  is  for  speculation  and  invention;  his  energy'  for 
adventure,  for  war  and  for  conquest,  wherever  war  is  just,  wherever  conquest 
necessary.     But  the  woman's  power  is  for  rule,  not  for   battle — and  her  intellect 


38  WOOED   AND    MARRIED   AND   A*. 

is  not  for  invention  or  creation,  but  for  sweet  ordering,  arrangement  and  decision. 
She  sees  the  qualities  of  things,  their  claims  and  their  places.  Her  great  func- 
tion is  praise;  she  enters  into  no  contest,  but  infallibh^  judges  the  crown  of 
contest.  By  her  ofl&ce  and  place  she  is  protected  from  all  danger  and  tempta- 
tion. The  man,  in  his  rough  work  in  open  world,  must  encounter  all  peril 
and  trial;  to  him,  therefore,  the  failure,  the  offence,  the  inevitable  error;  often  he 
must  be  wounded  or  subdued,  often  misled,  and  always  hardened.  But  he  guards 
the  woman  from  all  this.  Within  his  house,  as  ruled  by  her,  unless  she  herself 
has  sought  it,  need  enter  no  danger,  no  temptation,  no  cause  of  error  or  offence. 
This  is  the  true  nature  of  home — it  is  the  place  of  peace;  the  shelter,  not  only 
from  all  injury,  but  from  all  terror,  doubt  and  division.  In  so  far  as  it  is  not 
this,  it  is  not  home.  So  far  as  the  anxieties  of  the  outer  life  penetrate  into  it, 
and  the  inconsistentlj^-minded,  unknown,  unloved,  or  hostile  society  of  the  outer 
world  is  allowed  by  either  husband  or  wife  to  cross  the  threshold,  it  ceases  to  be 
home;  it  is  then  only  a  part  of  that  outer  world  which  you  have  roofed  over,  and 
lighted  fire  in.  But  so  far  as  it  is  a  sacred  place,  a  vestal  temple,  a  temple  of  the 
hearth  watched  over  by  household  gods,  before  whose  faces  none  may  come  but 
those  whom  they  can  receive  with  love — so  far  as  it  is  this,  and  roof  and  fire  aie 
types  only  of  a  nobler  shade  and  light — shade  as  of  the  rock  in  a  weary  land,  and 
light  as  of  the  pharos  in  the  stormy  sea — so  far  it  vindicates  the  name,  and  fulfills 
the  praise  of  home. 

"And  wherever  a  true  wife  comes,  this  home  is  always  round  her.  The  stars 
only  may  be  over  her  head;  the  glow-worm  in  the  night-cold  grass  may  be  the 
only  fire  at  her  foot;  but  home  is  yet  wherever  she  is;  and  for  a  noble  woman  it 
stretches  far  round  her,  better  than  ceiled  with  cedar  or  painted  w4th  vermilion, 
shedding  its  quiet  light  far,  for  those  who  else  were  homeless. 

"  This,  then,  I  believe  to  be — will  you  not  admit  it  to  be? — the  woman's  true 
place  and  power.  But  do  you  not  see  that  to  fulfill  this  she  must — as  far  as  one 
can  use  such  terms  of  a  human  creature — be  incapable  of  error  ?  So  far  as  she 
rules,  all  must  be  right,  or  nothing  is.  She  must  be  enduringly,  incorruptibly 
good;  instinctively,  infallibly  wise — wise,  not  for  self- development,  but  for  self- 
renunciation;  wise,  not  that  she  may  set  herself  above  her  husband,  but  that  she 
may  never  fail  from  his  side;  wise,  not  with  the  narrowness  of  insolent  and  love- 
less pride,  but  with  the  passionate  gentleness  of  an  infinitely  variable,  because 
infinitely  applicable,  modesty  of  service — the  true  changefulness  of  woman.  In 
that  great  sense — 'La  Donna  e  mobile,'  not  'Qual  pium  al  vento;'  no,  nor  yet 
'  Variable  as  the  shade,  by  the  light  quivering  aspen  made;'  but  variable  as 
the  light,  manifold  in  fair  and  serene  division,  that  it  may  take  the  color  of  all 
that  it  falls  upon,  and  exalt  it." 

If  we  accept  these  wise  words  of  Ruskin,  we  shall  begin  our  home  building 
on  a  ver3^  firm  basis. 


"  Wherever  a  true  wife  cotties.  this  home  is  alwavs  round  her." 


(39) 


40 


WOOED  AND   MARRIED  AND  A' 


Wedded  Hands. 

The  year,  sweet  wife,  is  on  the  wane; 

The  happy-hearted  year, 
Which  brought  us  only  tithes  of  pain, 

And  golden  sheaves  of  cheer. 

Beside  the  glowing  embers,  we 

Need  envy  no  one's  pelf; 
Content  am  I  to  partner  be 

In  firm  of  "  Wife  and  Self." 

Swift  glide  away  the  last  low  sands, 
Fast  fades  the  hearth-fire's  light. 

We  dare  the  world  with  wedded  hands, 
Good-night,  my  love,  good-night. 


CHAPTER   III. 
Settling  the  House. 

W^  HEREVER  the  house  be  which  is  chosen  for  the  new  home, 
whether  in  city  or  country,  the  first  thing  to  attend  to  is  the 
drainage.  People  who  wish  to  live  in  perfect  health  and  strength 
must  be  sure  that  there  is  nowhere  near  them  the  lurking  pos- 
sibility of  anything  which  will  breed  germs  of  disease.  Espe- 
cially in  the  country  one  needs  to  know  that  the  well  near  the 
house  is  good;  that  there  is  an  outlet  for  whatever  might  occasion 
'^'^^"'  ^^°^^^^  irom  a  cesspool  or  anything  of  that  sort.  In  the  city, 
\^  one  must  be  sure  that  the  plumbing  is  in  perfect  condition. 
This  is  really  a  sine  qua  non  for  health  and  consequent 
comfort  and  safety.  Then  the  householder  must  look  well  to  the  cellar,  especially 
if  the  house  be  one  in  which  other  tenants  have  dwelt  before  him.  Some  years  ago, 
in  the  city  where  I  live,  a  whole  family — father,  mother  and  six  children — were 
stricken  down  with  diphtheria,  and  in  one  week  the  father  and  five  of  the  children 
died.  This  occurrence  was  in  a  beautiful  street  where  the  houses  were  exception- 
ally fine.  The  local  Board  of  Health  ordered  an  investigation  into  the  condition  of 
the  house,  and  found  the  cellar  so  foul  that  a  candle  would  not  burn  in  it.  We  need 
always  to  look  well  to  cellars,  pantries,  closets  and  all  shut  up  places  in  which  the 
air  has  been  closed,  where  perhaps  careless  people  have  thrown  matter  which  may 
decay.  A  mysterious  illness  broke  out  once  in  a  community  where  I  was  tempo- 
rarily staying  as  a  summer  boarder,  and  was  especially  fierce  in  the  house  where  I 
had  taken  my  quarters.  This  house  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  beautiful  meadow  with 
trees  around  it,  and  from  the  front  porch  we  had  a  charming  view  of  a  mountain 
landscape.  It  would  have  seemed  that  no  conditions  could  possibly  be  more 
favorable  for  health  than  those  which  surrounded  us  there;  but  a  great  many  in 
the  neighborhood  sickened;  several  died,  and  in  our  own  house  there  were  cases 
of  disease  approaching  typhoid  in  character.  Finally,  a  rigid  examination  of  the 
wells  took  place,  and  it  was  found  that  organic  matter  in  them  was  the  cause  of 
the  entire  trouble.  Perfect  cleanliness  and  everlasting  vigilance  are  the  price 
which  must  be  paid  for  health.  Many  deaths  are  attributed  to  Divine  providence 
which  are  due  to  human  neglect. 

In  moving  into  a  new  house,  or  into  a  house  which  is  new  to  you,  the  first 
thing  to  do  is  to  thoroughly  clean  it.     Every  woman  knows  the   value  of  the 

(41) 


42 


SETTLING   THE   HOUSE. 


broom  and  the  scrubbing  brush,  of  soap  and  water,  of  lime,  kalsomine,  and  fresh 
paper  and  paint.  If  there  is  the  least  suspicion  in  any  room  of  the  presence  of 
vermin,  it  is  best  to  have  the  old  paper  torn  down,  all  cracks  and  apertures 
puttied  up  carefully  and  painted,  and  then  to  have 
fresh  paper  on  the  walls.  One  cannot  be  too  care- 
ful and  too  thorough  in  the  cleansing  of  a  house 
before  putting  down  carpets  and  rugs.  The  walls 
must  be  thoroughly  wiped,  the  cornices  dusted,  the 
blinds  brushed,  the  windows  washed,  the  paint  and 
marble  scoured,  and  not  a  crack  or  a  crevice  in  a 
closet  or  shelf  left  neglected.  Then  open  all  the 
windows  and  let  a  free  current  of  air  sweep  through 
the   house,    and  let   the   sunshine    in,   the   blessed 


"  This  house  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  beautiful  meadow  with  trees  around  it. 


SETTLING   THE   HOUSE.  43 

life-giving  sunshine.  In  furnishing  the  house  it  is  best  to  begin  with  the 
top  floor  and  work  gradually  downwards,  or  if  the  house  be  an  apartment, 
and  the  rooms  all  on  one  floor,  arrange  the  dining-room,  bedrooms  and  kitchen 
first,  and  leave  the  parlor  till  the  last.  Before  laying  carpets  it  is  best  to  spread 
the  floor  with  papers.  Newspapers  will  answer  the  purpose,  but  there  is  a  sort  of 
wadded  paper  which  comes  for  the  purpo.se;  and  if  you  wish  your  carpet  to  have 
a  very  soft  feeling  under  the  foot,  you  can  obtain  this  by  putting  down  several 
layers  of  this  paper.  You  may  have  noticed  in  hotels  how  soft  and  thick  the 
carpets  feel  under  your  feet.  This  feeling  is  procured  by  placing  several  thick- 
nesses of  paper  lining  under  the  carpets.  Cu.shions  or  pads  should  be  put  under 
the  stair  carpet.  They  save  the  wear  of  the  carpet  and  also  prevent  noise  from 
the  rushing  to  and  fro  of  children  and  others  in  the  house.  If  possible,  get  a 
carpet  man  to  make,  stretch  and  lay  your  carpets.  It  is  very  unhandy  work  for 
novices,  and  it  is  better  to  save  somewhere  else  and  not  wear  yourself  out  by  this 
labor,  if  it  can  be  helped.  Should  your  home,  however,  be  in  a  place  where  this 
sort  of  help  cannot  be  readily  obtained,  do  not  fail  to  let  John  use  his  strong  arms 
and  stronger  back  than  yours  in  helping  j^ou  with  the  hardest  of  the  work.  When 
people  are  first  married  it  is  very  essential  that  the}^  should  begin  right.  The  wife 
often  is  inclined  in  those  halcyon  days  to  spare  her  husband  from  doing  many 
things,  and  the  husband — bless  his  heart — while  he  wishes  to  save  her,  will  often, 
from  sheer  carelessness,  let  her  go  on,  thinking  she  prefers  to  do  things  which 
he  ought  to  take  upon  himself.  In  the  start  take  for  granted  that  the  husband 
means  to  lend  a  helping  hand  whenever  he  can. 

After  putting  down  the  carpets,  put  up  window  curtains  and  shades,  and  then 
arrange  the  furniture  in  the  way  you  like  best.  If  you  are  like  me  you  will  not 
be  contented  to  keep  it  always  in  the  place  in  which  it  is  originally  set.  For  my 
part,  I  like  from  time  to  time  a  change  of  appearance  in  my  rooms.  Many  people, 
however,  prefer  to  find  a  good  place  for  bed,  bureau  and  sofa,  and  then  to  let  them 
stay  where  they  are  placed  for  all  the  rest  of  the  time.  It  is  merely  a  question 
of  taste,  you  see. 

In  choosing  paper  for  your  house,  remember  that  rooms  on  the  north  side  of 
the  house,  where  there  is  little  sun,  should  have  lighter  and  brighter  papers  and 
<irapery  than  rooms  where  there  is  plenty  of  sunshine.  A  bit  of  yellow 
in  a  house  produces  an  effect  of  cheer  and  sunlight;  so  that  in  a  shaded 
room  a  yellow  hanging  or  a  vase  of  a  yellow  color  set  in  a  comer  will  produce  an 
effect  of  brightness  and  cheer.  Colors  are  cold  or  warm,  you  know.  Red  gives 
an  impression  of  warmth;  blue  and  green  have  a  cold  and  chilling  effect;  pink  is 
always  cheery,  and  olive  and  pearl  tints  and  the  various  shades  of  gray  are  very 
restful.  For  bedrooms  nothing  is  better  than  cool  pretty  matting  laid  down  noon  the 
floor,  and  this  is  not  expensive,  so  that  the  whole  furnishing  of  the  house  may 


44 


SETTLING  THE   HOUSE. 


be  very  much  lessened  if  matting  is  used  instead  of  carpet.  Painted  floors,  or 
hard  wood  floors,  with  rugs  which  can  be  taken  up  and  laid  down  with  ease, 
shaken  every  week  and  restored  to  their  places,  are  favorites  with  many  people  in 
in  these  days.  When  you  are  buying  bedsteads  for  your  house  it  is  better  to 
choose  either  the  pretty  bedsteads  of  white  iron,  or  brass,  if  you  can  afford  them, 


"  The  wife  is  often  incliued  to  spare  her  husband." 

than  to  purchase  the  most  expensive  bedsteads  of  wood.  For  cleanliness  and 
durability  the  metal  bedstead  far  surpasses  the  ordinary  one  of  wood.  Still, 
a  great  deal  is  to  be  said  for  a  beautifully  carved  mahogany,  black  walnut 
or  oak  bedstead,  if  that  is  your  choice,  or  if  you  have  one  as  an  heirloom. 
There  has  been  a  rettum  in  recent  years  to  the  old  fashion  of  having  draperies 


SETTLING   THE   HOUSE.  45 

over  one's  bed,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  they  look  very  ornamental;  but,  so 
far  as  health  is  concerned,  it  is  better  to  have  nothing  in  the  way  of  a  canopy, 
unless  you  live  in  a  mosquito  haunted  region,  where  you  must  have  draperies 
over  the  couch.  By  all  means  see  that  you  have  screens  ready  for  every  window, 
and,  if  possible,  screen  doors  for  your  kitchen,  so  that  the  swarms  of  flies  which 
torment  the  housekeeper  in  the  summer  may  not  drive  you  from  all  your  patience. 
Screens  also  are  a  great  protection  against  the  venomous  little  mosquito.  You 
need  not  be  like  Josiah  Allen's  wife  and  spend  your  whole  life  in  pouncing  upon 
the  poor  fly  who  finds  its  way  in.  By  all  means,  avoid  flies  if  you  can;  but  if 
you  are  unfortunate  enough  to  have  them,  remember  perhaps  they  are  sent  to  you 
to  discipline  you  into  sweetness  of  temper  and  make  you  less  irritable  than  you 
would  be  without  them.  If  possible,  have  a  storeroom  or  other  place  into  which 
3-ou  may  relegate  all  empty  trunks  and  boxes.  Your  wood  and  coal  will  be  put  in 
bins  in  the  cellar  or  woodshed.    Here,  too,  empty  boxes  and  barrels  may  be  stored. 

As  far  as  possible,  have  the  house  arranged  in  a  very  orderly  and  systematic 
manner.  A  writer  on  the  subject  of  housekeeping  says  very  wisely:  "The 
individuality  of  a  house  is  determined  principally  by  its  decoration.  The 
necessaries  of  furnishing  are  common  to  all;  it  is  in  the  minor  points  of  ornament 
that  the  house  mistress  shows  her  true  self."  Thus,  in  the  buying  of  china,  one 
may  choose  from  a  great  variety.  You  may  have  either  plain  white,  which  has 
the  advantage  of  being  easily  replaced  if  broken,  or  you  may  find  quaint  Japanese 
or  Chinese  patterns,  and  a  great  variety  of  decorated  china,  much  of  it  at  a  mod- 
erate price.  Cut-glass  is,- of  course,  very  expensive;  but  pressed  glass  in  these 
days  is  found  in  such  perfection  that  it  is  almost  as  beautiful  as  its  more  costly 
neighbor.  Plated  ware  makes  a  very  good  show  and  does  hot  tempt  the  prowling 
burglar  as  solid  silver  does.  I  have  never  understood  where  the  pleasure  is  in 
having  articles  of  solid  silver,  which  must  be  kept  in  a  safe  at  the  bank,  and 
brought  out  only  on  great  and  solemn  occasions,  because  of  the  fear  of  robbers; 
while  one  may  have  most  beautiful  articles  in  plated  ware,  which  have  the  effect 
of  the  solid  silver,  and  yet  which  it  would  not  break  your  heart  or  bankrupt  your 
purse  to  part  with. 

There  is  room  in  our  bed-chambers  for  an  endless  variet}'  of  the  little  touches 
which  make  the  difference  between  homeliness  and  bareness.  When  you  go  into 
a  hotel  or  boarding  house  you  are  struck  at  once  with  the  desolate  look  of  the 
rooms,  because  they  have  only  the  necessary  articles,  and  no  fanciful  touches.  In 
your  own  house  you  have  the  chance  to  use  a  great  many  beautiful  little  articles 
— table  covers,  splashers,  whisk-broom  cases,  odds  and  ends,  scarfs,  tidies,  and 
no  end  of  cushions. 

Let  me  urge  you,  if  you  are  about  to  begin  housekeeping,  not  to  be  deluded 
into  the  purchase  of  a  folding-bed,  even  if  it  does  take  up  less  room   than  a 


46 


SETTLING  THE   HOUSE. 


bedstead.  It  is  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other,  masquerading  in  the  daytime  as  a 
cabinet  or  a  bookcase  in  a  clumsy  way  and  deceiving  nobody.  It  is  always  a  bed, 
and  proclaims  itself  so,  even  with  its  mirror  in  front  and  its  air  of  standing  aside 
against  the  wall.  A  divan,  which  any  carpenter  will  make  for  you,  and  which  is 
a  lounge  in  the  daytime,  and  a  bed  at  night,  is  very  much  better.  If  you  have 
one  made  by  a  carpenter,  give  him  the  dimensions  you  want.  A  plain  box  fitted 
up  with  springs;  over  this  a  mattress  which  may  be  covered  with  pretty  rugs  in 
the  daytime,  and  on  which  you  may  have  no  end  of  beautiful  pillows  and 
cushions,  is  itself  an  addition  to  any  room.  If  you  choose,  you  may  have  a  divan 
made  in  such  a  way  that  underneath  the  lid  it  will  be  a  box,  in  which  you  may 
keep  dresses,  blankets,  or  anything  else  you  choose. 

An  essential  thing  in  almost  any  room  is  a  large  screen.  This  may  be  plain 
or  showy,  made  at  home,  covered  with  wall  paper,  cretonne  or  satine,  or  it  may 
be  purchased  at  a  store  and  may  be  extremely  ornamental.  It  serves  as  a  parti- 
tion to  shut  off  anything  which  j'ou  wish  to  hide  from  the  general  view;  as  in 
the  bedroom,  the  wash  hand  basin  and  its  accessories,  or  it  shuts  off  a  draught  or 
keeps  off  the  too  great  heat  of  the  fire. 


CHAPTER  I\^ 
Color  and  Light. 

you  have  ever  studied  the  matter  at  all  you  have  been  convinced  that 
color  plays  an  important  part  in  the  comfort,  as  well  as  in  the 
luxury  of  life.  There  are  great  differences  in  the  degree  of  appre- 
ciation of  color  which  people  have,  and  these  differences  are 
determined  largely  by  association  and  by  training.  Of  the  color- 
blind we  are  not  just  now  thinking,  but  of  those  who  misuse  color.  For 
instance,  you  observe  in  the  dress  of  the  Italian  peasants  who  immi- 
grate to  our  country,  a  lavish  use  of  what  may  be  called  crude  and  violent  color. 
They  wear  intense  and  brilliant  purples,  scarlets  and  greens.  Very  often  there  is 
no  attempt  at  harmony  or  at  blending;  but  the  colors,  strong  in  themselves,  are 
just  in  that  sort  of  extreme  contrast  which  sets  one's  very  teeth  on  edge,  if  she 
prefers  harmony  and  a  gentle  gradation  of  tint  and  hue. 

We  have  learned  in  these  days  to  value  soft  shadings  of  color  in  our  houses; 
the  melting  of  one  dim  tint  in  another,  so  that  our  rooms  rest  us,  rather  than 
weary  our  eyes.  Persons  who  go  to  Ital}-  to  reside  tell  us  that  in  engaging  a  fur- 
nished apartment  in  Rome  or  Florence  they  find,  as  a  rule,  the  use  of  strong 
primitive  colors,  which  almost  swear  at  one  another  in  walls  and  curtains.  In 
Germany,  there  is  apt  to  be  less  of  the  startling  in  combination;  but  the  effect  is 
often  bare  and  coldv  The  same  may  be  said  of  Holland.  In  England  and  Scot- 
land, a  homely  comfort  prevails;  but  it  is  only  where  people  in  any  country  have 
made  a  study  of  color  that  they  are  able  to  show  good  effects  in  its  use. 

An  artist  tells  us  that  there  are  colors  which  are  warm  and  others  which  are 
cold.  All  colors  that  approach  3'ellow  in  their  tone,  are  warm.  The  coldest  of 
all  the  colors  is  blue.  Red  is  colder  than  j-ellow  and  warmer  than  blue.  If  we 
mix  a  little  yellow  with  blue,  thus  making  a  somewhat  greenish  blue,  it  is  a 
warm  blue;  mixed  with  a  little  red,  it  approaches  purple,  but  is  still  a  cold  blue, 
but  not  so  cold  as  pure  cold  blue  that  has  no  suggestion  of  green.  A  little  yellow 
mixed  with  red  makes  the  red  warmer;  a  little  blue  mixed  with  red  imparts  a  cold 
tint.  Yellow  mixed  with  red  becomes  warmer;  mixed  with  blue  it  becomes  a 
colder  yellow.  Pure  white  mixed  with  pure  yellow  makes  a  golden  yellow.  The 
purples  are  cold  as  they  approach  blue  and  warm  as  they  approach  red;  the  greens 
are   cold   as  they  approach  blue  and   warm  as  they   approach  yellow.      White 

(47) 


48  COLOR  AND   LIGHT. 

may  be  cold  or  warm;  a  warm  white  is  j-ellowish;  a  cold  white  is  blueish.  Lav- 
ender is  a  cold  color,  being  a  purple  that  is  much  mixed  with  cold  white  and  blue. 
Violet  is  a  warm  color  in  comparison,  being  a  purple  much  mixed  with  red  and  a 
little  warm  white. 

These  hints  given  by  an  artist  may  help  one  in  determining  the  color  she  will 
have  on  her  rooms.  For  instance,  a  woman  is  considering  of  what  tone  she  will 
have  her  walls  and  ceiling.  She  must  think  whether  the  room  faces  the  sun  and 
will  be  flooded  with  pleasant  sunshine,  or  whether  it  has  a  northern  exposure  and 
will  therefore  be  cold  and  dim.  In  the  latter  case,  she  will  do  well  to  have  plenty 
of  yellow  in  the  tint  she  chooses  for  her  papering  or  her  kalsomining,  and,  if  possi- 
ble, she  will  hang  curtains  of  yellow  silk  or  cretonne  of  some  thinner  yellow 
fabric  in  her  windows.  A  great  deal  of  yellow  in  a  room  which  has  little  sunlight 
somehow  produces  an  effect  of  the  sun.  In  such  a  room,  one  may  to  advantage 
have  wall  paper  of  a  warm  soft  red  and  a  carpet  of  wood  brown,  with  a  glimmer 
of  red  in  it  here  and  there. 

I  know  of  a  house  in  New  York  City  which  stands  on  the  shady  side  of  a  very 
closely  built  street.  It  has  windows  only  in  front;  none  whatever  in  the  rear, 
and  no  sunshine  ever  gets  into  the  house;  yet  the  whole  effect  of  the  furnishing 
is  singularly  cheerful.  The  coloring  of  the  rooms  and  furniture  throughout  is 
white  and  3'ellow.  All  the  woodwork  is  white;  the  walls  are  white;  the  draperies 
are  3'ellow;  the  window  seats  are  cushioned  with  j-ellow  and  there  is  nothing  dark 
or  heavy  anywhere  in  the  furnishing  of  the  house.  All  sombre  tints  and  tones 
are  avoided,  so  that  it  comes  to  one  as  a  surprise  that  the  house  should  be  really 
one  which  gets  no  sunlight.  The  reason  that  there  are  no  back  windows  is  that 
the  house  is  built  straight  up  against  the  side  wall  of  another  house  on  another 
•street.  People  who  live  where  they  have  ample  room  to  have  windows  on  every 
side  of  the  house,  and  God's  free  air  and  sunlight  coming  at  every  turn,  should 
not  envy  those  whose  lot  is  cast  in  the  midst  of  towns.  Necessarily,  inany  people 
in  a  citj^  like  New  York  have  to  live,  or  at  least  sleep,  in  dark  rooms  to  which  the 
sunlight  never  penetrates,  and  this  is  a  great  disadvantage. 

In  choosing  a  color  of  paint  or  a  papering  for  one's  wall,  it  is  well  to  remem- 
ber that  we  have  to  live  a  long  time  with  a  house  dressed  in  one  sort  of  paint  and 
paper.  The  papering  which  looks  beautiful  in  a  roll  on  the  counter  of  the  man 
who  sells  it,  may  become  terribly  trying  to  you  when  you  are  obliged  to  see  it  bj' 
daylight  and  candle  light  for  ten  or  twelve  years;  and  if  you  are  to  have  a  fit  of 
sickness  or  a  period  of  weakness  and  nervous  depression,  it  is  well  to  think 
whether  you  could  then  endure  it  in  a  room  which  might  be  trying  to  j'our  senses 
during  days  when  you  were  .shut  in  from  out  of  doors.  It  is  a  good  plan  to  let 
every  member  of  the  family  give  advice  on  so  important  a  subject  as  the  furnish- 
ing of  a  house.     One  person  should  not  force  his  or  her  ideas  on  the  rest;  but 


God's  free  air  and  sunlight  coming  at  every  turn.' 


(49) 


50  COLOR  AND   LIGHT. 

where  it  is  possible  all  should  have  a  voice  in  deciding.     A  home  is  a  composite 
affair  in  which,  from  the  least  to  the  greatest  all  have  a  stake. 

Kalsomining  is  so  soft  and  pleasing  in  the  surface  it  presents,  that  no  one 
need  hesitate  in  choosing  it  for  ceiling  or  walls. 

A  home  does  not  shoot  up  like  Jonah's  garden  in  a  night.  It  is  the  growth 
and  development  of  months  and  years;  and  one  beautiful  thing  about  it  is  that  it 
is  never  finished;  one  may  always  find  something  to  improve,  something  to  adorn, 
something  to  beautify.  A  home  is  the  one  thing  on  earth  which  keeps  us  young 
and  glad,  the  one  Eden  left  us  here  below. 

In  the  hanging  of  pictures  in  a  house,  one  must  be  guided  a  little  by  the 
height  of  the  ceiling.  As  a  rule,  pictures  should  not  be  hung  above  the  level  of 
the  eyes.  They  are  better  hung  too  low  than  too  high.  It  is  wise  to  avoid  too 
much  formality  in  their  arrangement;  they  look  better  hung  irregularly,  and  the 
framing  may  be  as  varied  as  the  purse  or  the  taste  of  the  owner.  One  should 
always  have  pictures  about  a  house,  and  they  need  not  necessarily  be  costly  in 
these  days  when  every  illustrated  paper  and  magazine  .shows  designs  which  lend 
themselves  most  beautifully  to  artistic  effect.  In  a  girl's  room  recently,  I  was 
interested  to  see  a  collection  of  extremely  beautiful  pictures  taken  from  current 
periodicals  and  simply  tacked  up  without  frames  here  and  there  on  the  wall. 
With  a  few  photographs,  a  vase  or  two,  and  her  hanging  shelves,  where  beautiful 
books  abounded,  her  room  was  exceedingly  tasteful  and  pretty,  a  fit  and  dainty 
setting  for  her  sweet  self 

What  do  you  understand  by  the  word  picturesque  ?  To  one  person  it  bears 
one,  and  to  another  a  quite  different  meaning.  We  talk  of  a  picturesque  land- 
scape, of  a  picturesque  house,  of  a  picturesque  parlor.  My  idea  of  the  picturesque 
is  the  harmonious,  the  soft,  the  restful,  the  tranquilizing.  I  do  not  like  to  .see  in 
any  house  a  jumble  of  articles  carelessly  thrown  together  with  no  central  idea 
around  which  they  are  grouped.  The  tendency  lately  has  been  to  multiply  objects 
simply  because  they  are  pretty  in  themselves,  with  no  special  relation  of  each  to 
the  other.  Therefore,  we  find  some  rooms  which  are  filled  with  a  miscellaneous 
collection  of  bric-a-brac,  rooms  which  suggest  shops  or  museums  much  more  than 
they  resemble  homes.  A  vase,  a  statuette,  a  lamp,  should  be  a  delightful  thing 
in  itself;  then  it  should  be  placed  where  its  position  in  the  room  shows  it  to 
advantage — the  lamp  on  a  table  in  a  corner,  conveying  the  idea  that  people  will 
sit  beside  it  to  read  or  to  talk;  the  vase  or  statuette  against  a  little  curtain  or 
screen  which  will  bring  out  the  purity  of  its  tone  and  the  beauty  of  its  shape. 

Nothing  is  more  beautiful  in  a  room  than  a  few  plants  in  good  condition,  or 
a  cluster  of  palms  and  rubber  plants,  forming  a  verdant  spot  on  which  the  eye  can 
rest.  It  is  a  good  plan  to  sit  down  in  different  parts  of  your  rooms  and  see 
how   the  grouping  of  the  furniture  pleases  you.     Try  the  effect  of  a  different 


COLOR   AND    LIGHT. 


51 


arrangement.  Say  to  yourself,  ' '  How  would  I  like  this  if  I  saw  it  in  the  house  of 
a  friend  ? ' '  Avoid  as  far  as  you  can  all  autumn  leaves,  crystallized  grasses,  feathery 
plumes,  all  Pampas  and  Japanese  fans  stuck  here  and  there.  All  these  things 
detract  from  the  grace  and  dignity  of  a  room,  and  usually  give  an  impression  of 
effort  at  ornamentation  made  in  an  unintelligent  way.  Besides,  they  are  great 
gatherers  of  dust,  and  the  lifelong 
struggle  with  '  'dust' '  is  hard  enough 
without  their  adding  to  it. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful 
houses  in  which  I  have  ever  been 
has  very  few  rooms.  One  large 
room  on  the  ground  floor   answers 

for  a  parlor,   dining  room  and  li- 
brary, and  at  need  is  coverted  at 

night  into  a  bedroom  for  the  lady 

of  the   house    and   her   daughters. 

The  color  of  this  room,  as  to  the 

walls,  is  a  grayish  blue  ;  the  floor  is 

painted  a  sort  of  soft  brown  ;  rugs 

are  laid   here  and   there  over   the 

floor.     One  portion  nearest  the  door 

which  leads  to  the  kitchen  is  used 

by  the   family  for   a  dining  room, 

and  is  simply  divided  from  the  rest 

of  the  room  by  an  arrangement  of 

movable  screens.     Another  portion, 

furnished  with   a  desk,  some  easy 

chairs,  a  divan  and  low  bookcases, 

is  also  separated  from  the  rest  by 

screens,  and  is  known  as  the  library, 

where  a  great  deal  of  pleasant  con- 
versation goes  on,  and  where,  when 


"The  laiii]i  on  the  table  in  the  corner." 


she  chooses,  the  mistress  of  the  domain  writes,  receives  her  friends,  reads  or 
enjoys  her  leisure.  A  low  tea  table  with  cups  and  saucers  and  a  burnished 
copper  kettle  is  ready  here  for  sociable  five  o'clock  tea.  Every  inch  of  avail- 
able space  in  this  room  is  filled  appropriately,  and  a  large  family  gather  in  the 
various  parts  of  it  and  pursue  their  various  occupations  without  in  the  least 
disturbing  one  another.  Something  similar  to  this  will  be  remembered  by  visitors 
to  Appledore  in  Celia  Thaxter's  day.  No  one  who  ever  visited  the  Isles  of  Shoals 
will   forget  the  island  garden  of  Mrs.  Thaxter's,    nor  the  beautiful,    long,  low 


arge  room  on  ground  floor  answers  for  parlor,  dining  room  and  library." 


(52) 


COI.OR   AND    LIGHT. 


53 


room  in  which  the  lovely  poet  received  her  guests.  That  cottage  parlor  was  in 
itself  a  dream  of  color  and  beauty,  in  which  the  note  of  bloom  and  brightness 
was  made  by  the  lavish  use  of  flowers,  banked  on  the  mantels,  standing  in  cups 
and  bowls,  in  vases,  in  glaases,  behind  pictures,  in  fact  everywhere,  so  brilliant, 
so  beautiful  and  so  lovely  that  no  one  could  help  enjoying  and  admiring  the  fas- 
cinating effect.     A  poet's  garden  and  a  poet's  home  was  that  in  Appledore. 

We  are  not  so  afraid  of  sunshine  in  these  days  as  people  were  in  the  charm- 
ing story  of  Cranford.  Perhaps  j'ou  remember  what  a  stir  it  made  in  that  quaint 
little  hamlet  when  Miss  Jenkyns  purchased  a  new  carpet  for  her  drawing  room. 
"Oh,"  said  the  writer  of  Cranford,  "the  busy  work  Miss  Mollie  and  I  had  in 
chasing  the  sunbeams  as  the}'  fell  in  an  afternoon  right  down  on  this  carpet 
through  the  blindless  window.  We  spread  newspapers  over  the  places  and  sat 
down  to  our  book  or  our  work,  and  lo,  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  sun  had 
moved  and  was  blazing  away  on  a  fresh  spot,  and  down  again  we  went  on  our 
knees  to  alter  the  position  of  the  newspapers.  We  were  very  busy,  too,  one 
whole  morning  before  Miss  Jenkyns  gave  her  party,  in  following  her  -directions 
and  in  cutting  out  and  stitching  together  pieces  of  newspapers,  so  as  to  form  little 
paths  to  ever}^  chair  set  for  the  expected  visitors,  lest  their  shoes  might  dirty  or 
defile  the  purity  of  the  new  carpet." 

Quite  opposite  to  this  was  the  course  of  a  friend  of  mine,  on  whom  a  cousin 
bestowed  in  a  burst  of  generosity  a  very  rich  but  very  glaring  Brussels  carpet. 
My  friend  was  away  from  home  paying  a  visit.  On  her  return,  she  found  her 
floor  covered  with  this  brilliant  and  splendid  gift.  Of  its  cost  there  could  be  no 
doubt;  equally  no  doubt  of  the  friend's  good  intentions;  but  the  carpet  killed 
everything  else  in  the  room  and  made  the  old  furniture  look  shockingly  shabby. 
"What  did  you  do?"  I  said.  "Oh,"  she  answered,  "there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  first  to  sit  down  and  cry.  Next,  I  solved  the  problem  by  opening  the  win- 
dows to  the  sunshine,  drawing  up  the  shades,  and  allowing  the  strong  sunlight 
to  pour  in  on  that  carpet  every  hour  in  the  day  for  days  together,  until  it  faded 
out  into  something  less  terrible  than  it  was  at  first:  but  it  will  be  a  trial  to  me,  I 
fear,  for  vears  to  come. ' ' 


CHAPTER  V. 

Furnishing  the  Bedrooms. 

)PON  the  cheerfulness,  good  ventilation  and  convenience  of  the 
bedrooms  the  health  of  the  family  very  largely  depends.  A 
necessity  of  every  chamber  in  which  people  sleep  is  fresh  air, 
and,  if  possible,  light.  The  furniture  of  the  bedrooms  is,  in  so 
far  as  essentials  are  concerned,  limited  to  a  few  articles.  There 
must,  of  course,  be  a  bed,  and  there  should  be  a  bureau,  a  wash 
basin,  several  chairs  and  a  table.  No  other  articles  are  needed, 
though  others  may  be  added  to  suit  the  taste  of  the  owner  of  the  room,  according 
to  its  capacit}'.  Then  a  lounge  is  a  pleasant  accessor}-,  enabling  one  to  keep  the 
bed  nicely  made  up  all  day  and  inviting  to  pleasant  naps  at  intervals  without  dis- 
turbing the  couch.  Where  there  are  children  the  crib  or  the  cradle  may  stand  in 
the  room  with  the  mother's  bed.  The  multiplication  of  articles  in  a  bedroom  is 
unwise,  as  they  are  simply  traps  for  dust,  and  demand  care  which  might  better  be 
given  in  other  parts  of  the  house. 

A  hard  wood  or  painted  floor,  with  rugs  which  may  be  easily  taken  up  and 
shaken,  is  by  most  people  preferred  to  a  carpet  in  these  days,  although  in  country' 
houses  a  pretty  tasteful  matting  makes  a  very  attractive  floor  covering.  The  mat- 
ting may  be  pure  white  or  figured,  and  is  to  be  found  in  many  varieties  at 
exceedingly  low  cost. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  have  heavy  draperies  at  the  windows  of  a  sleeping  room. 
Shades,  either  white  or  ecru,  with  light  muslin  curtains  are  CLuite  sufficient. 
Unless  there  are  blinds  which  may  be  closed  at  night,  or  outside  shutters,  it  is 
also  well  to  have  a  second  pair  of  shades  of  very  dark  brown  or  green.  These 
can  be  rolled  down  at  night,  and  prevent  light  from  falling  on  the  eyes  of  those 
who  are  asleep. 

In  bedsteads  there  is  room  for  a  wide  variety  of  choice.  A  brass  bedstead 
is  very  beautiful,  but  a  white  iron  bedstead  with  iron  trimmings  is  equally  pretty 
and  costs  very  much  less.  In  various  carved  woods,  curled  maple,  chestnut, 
cherry,  black  walnut  and  mahogany  there  are  exceedingly  beautiful  bedsteads  to 
be  found,  but  the  metallic  has  an  advantage  over  the  wooden  bedstead  in  being 
xnore  easily  kept  entirely  clean. 

(54) 


FURNISHING   THE    BEDROOMS.  55 

A  wire  spring  mattress  is  the  first  requisite;  over  this  may  be  placed  the  best 
mattress  you  can  afford.  Nothing  equals  a  good  hair  mattress,  but  there  are 
beds  made  of  moss,  excelsior  and  cotton  which  are  quite  comfortable  for  a  time, 
though  less  durable  than  the  hair  mattress,  which  may  be  picked  over  and  remade 
a  number  of  times,  and  which  is  really,  when  once  purchased,  a  lifelong  posses- 
sion. As  so  much  of  one's  time  is  necessarily  spent  in  bed  and  in  sleep,  eight 
hours  of  the  twenty-four  being  a  moderate  allowance  for  most  people  to  be  given 
to  this  necessary  renewal  of  one's  faculties,  it  is  worth  while  to  have  as  good  and 
comfortable  a  bed  as  possible. 

Beds  of  straw  and  of  feathers,  once  found  ever5nvhere,  are  not  now  favorites. 
The  straw  bed  is  hard  and  lumpy,  and  the  feather  bed,  while  to  a  certain  extent 
luxurious,  is  very  enervating,  and  in  summer  exceedingly  oppressive.  No  one 
can  rise  from  a  smothering  bath  of  feathers  and  feel  quite  refreshed  for  going  on 
with  the  day's  work. 

The  sheets  and  pillow-cases,  bolster-cases,  blankets  and  spreads  needed  for 
each  bed  may  be  determined  by  the  householder  herself.  lyinen  sheets  are  very 
luxurious,  and  most  women  like  to  have  a  pair  or  two  of  these  in  reserve  for  great 
occasions,  but  excellent  cotton  sheets  can  be  procured,  and  they  form  the  staple  for 
most  housekeepers.  A  soft  wool  blanket  is  much  better  than  a  wadded  quilt, 
being  lighter,  as  a  rule,  and  retaining  the  heat  of  the  body  better  than  the  other 
A  duvet  of  swansdown  or  goose  feathers  is  a  great  luxury  as  an  extra  covering 
for  a  bed,  but  equally  as  good  is  a  soft  Italian  rug  or  a  knitted  afghan. 

Pillow  shams  and  lace  spreads  for  the  daytime  were  at  one  time  very  popular, 
but  their  day  is  over  and  only  old-fashioned  housekeepers  are  bothered  with  them 
now.  I  cling  myself  to  the  old-fashioned  idea  that  a  white  counterpane  and 
white  pillow  slips  are  exceedingly  beautiful,  but  many  women  in  these  days  prefer 
a  dark  silk  spread,  or  a  spread  made  of  cretonne,  which  they  throw  entirely  over 
the  bed  in  the  daytime,  covering  also  a  round  bolster,  and  putting  the  pillows 
aside  until  they  are  used  at  night.  All  these  things  are  matters  of  personal  taste, 
and  each  one  may  determine  just  what  she  will  do  for  herself. 

Have  everything  about  the  baby's  crib  and  cradle  of  the  very  best  that  you 
can  get  for  the  dear  little  sleeper,  whose  infancy  at  least  should  be  wrapped  in 
warmth  and  luxury. 

A  closet  is  a  requisite  in  a  bedroom,  but  if  one  has  none,  a  very  good  substi- 
tute may  be  made  by  a  set  of  hooks  against  the  wall,  which  may  be  covered  with 
a  curtain  or  hidden  by  a  high  screen. 

Many  lounges  serve  a  double  purpose,  and  when  the  lid  is  opened  prove  them- 
selves long  boxes  in  which  garments  may  be  laid  away.  Window-seats  may  also 
serve  as  boxes  for  shoes,  and  ottomans  and  hassocks  often  lend  themselves  to  the 
needs  of  the  householder  who  has  little  space  and  must  economize  what  she  has. 


56 


FURNISHING  THE   BEDROOMS. 


The  high  chiffonier,  formerly  supposed  to  belong  only  to  a  man  and  to  be 
appropriate  for  his  use,  is  !io\v  chosen  by  many  women  in  preference  to  a  lower 

dressing  table  and  bureau  because  it 
has  more  drawers  in  which  they  may 
keep  their  belongings.  A  homemade 
dressing  table  may  be  easily  manu- 
factured by  a  woman  who  is  handy 
with  tools,  or  who  can  press  her  brother 
or  husband  into  the  service.  This 
needs  to  be  simply  a  pine  table  cov- 
ered with  Silesia  appropriately  draped 
with  a  little  lace  and  some  ribbon 
^ows,  and  above  it  there  may  be  ar- 
ranged a  looking  -glass,  beside  which 
the  fair  lady  may  sit  and  comb  her 
hair  and  survey  herself  at  her  will. 

The  boy's  room  should  not  be  a 
repository  for  all  the  old  things  in  the 
house.  If  possible,  let  it  be  attractive 
so  that  it  may  be  a  refuge  for  him,  a 
place  to  which  he  may  retire  to  study 
his  lessons,  or  where  he  may  entertain 
his  friends  with  a  feeling  that  he  has 
a  real  foothold  in  the  house.  The 
boy  will  probably  like  to  have  his  tool 
chest  in  his  room,  if  he  has  a  fancy 
for  making  articles  useful  and  onia- 
niental,  as  many  boys  have.  If  he 
is  a  collector  he  will  keep  his  cabinet 
there;  if  his  fancy  is  for  the  pursuits 
of  the  naturalist,  his  butterflies  and 
beetles  will  find  their  appropriate  niche 
in  his  room.  "Whatever  the  boy's  fad 
or  hobby  is,  he  will  be  apt  to  let  it 
express  itself  in  this  place  which  is 
his  own.  From  time  to  time  he  should 
be  encouraged  in  whatever  is  his  spe- 
cialty by  some  present  which  will 
show  that  the  family  appreciate  his  efforts,  and  it  should  be  required  of  him 
that  his  room  should  not  invariably  look  as  if  it  had  been  swept  by  a  cyclone. 


"The  dainty  pretty  daughter  of  the  house." 


FURNISHIXCr   THE    BEDROOMS.  -57 

There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why  boys  should  throw  their  things  promis- 
cuously around  their  rooms  or  about  the  house  for  their  sisters  or  their  mother 
to  pick  up  after  them.  The  boy  may  as  well  be  trained  from  the  outset  to  keep 
everything  connected  with  his  own  peculiar  apartment  in  order.  He  will  be  quite 
as  happy,  and  the  family  will  be  much  happier  if  this  is  required  of  him. 

The  dainty  daughter  of  the  house  usually  shows  her  own  taste  in  the 
arrangement  of  her  room,  and  some  of  the  sweetest  and  prettiest  interiors  I  have 
ever  seen  have  been  in  girls'  rooms.  One  sees  this  in  the  room  of  the  girl  away 
at  school  or  college;  it  has  an  individuality  of  its  own  just  as  it  has  in  her  own 
home.  The  girl  probably  will  have  about  her  room  many  souvenirs  of  friends. 
She  is  fond  of  photographs,  and  groups  them  prettily  on  her  walls  or  about  her 
dressing  table.  Her  combs  and  brushes,  her  manicure  set,  and  her  dainty  toilet 
appendages  testify  to  her  love  of  neatness  and  beauty.  She  will  have  her  little 
bookshelf  with  her  favorite  books  and  her  desk  at  which  she  writes  her  letters,  her 
rocking-chair,  her  work-basket,  and  everywhere  there  will  be  the  feminine  touch 
— the  trifles  which  indicate  how  much  the  home  means  to  women. 

.  A  guest  chamber,  which  fortunate  people  like  to  have  always  read}-  for  the 
occupation  of  friends,  should  be,  in  the  first  place,  entirely  comfortable.  Let  me 
say  in  passing  that  comfort  is  the  prime  requisite  in  sleeping  rooms,  and  that 
ornament  follows  a  long  way  after.  One  may  have  a  guest  chamber  which  is  a 
marvel  of  beauty  in  the  freshness  of  the  toilet  table,  in  the  ribbons  and  lace  and 
beautiful  pin-cushions  and  pretty  knick-knacks  scattered  about,  but  in  which  the 
facilities  for  bathing  are  few  and  not  satisfactory,  and  in  which  the  bed  is  hard  and 
lumpy.  See  that  the  accommodations  which  are  essential  are  attended  to  first  and 
let  the  decorations  follow. 

Towels  in  plenty,  not  new  and  slippery,  but  .soft  and  pleasant  to  the  touch, 
rougher  ones  for  bathing  purposes,  also  a  wash-cloth  and  delicate  toilet  soap, 
should  be  part  of  the  appointments  of  the  guest  chamber.  A  few  sheets  of  paper 
and  envelopes  and  a  pen  and  ink,  with  a  postal  card  or  two,  should  be  at  the 
guest's  disposal,  and  if  you  are  very  thoughtful  you  may  add  a  few  postage 
stamps,  so  that  her  letters  may  never  have  to  wait  for  this  convenience.  Every 
bedroom  should  be  furnished  with  a  good  strong  lock  and  key  or  a  bolt,  as  many 
persons  sleep  better  for  knowing  that  they  may  safely  lock  them.selves  in  at 
night. 


A  LITTLE  girl  was  going  to  bed.     A  dear  sister  used  to  sleep  on  the  snow- 
white  pillow  beside  her.     Where  was  she  now  ? 

' '  Mamma,  whom  does  sister  sleep  beside  in  heaven  ?  ' ' 
"  *  There  is  no  night  there,'  "  said  mamma. 


.^■s.JiJtSiai  tXiifri'i, 


-~>^ 


■^ 


(5S) 


"  She  will  have  her  desk,  at  which  she  writes  her  letters." 


THREE  BASKETS.  59 

"  Mamma,  does  a  soul  have  eyes?  Will  sister  know  us  when  we  come?  " 
'  '  IVe  shall  see  as  we  are  see7i,  and  knoiv  even  as  we  are  known, ^   the  Bible 
tells  us." 

"We  shall   see  them,    but  our   eyes  will   not  be  crying   ej-es;    will    they, 
mamma  ? ' ' 

' '  No,  '  God  will  zvipe  away  all  tears. '  " 

"  There  will   be  nothing   to  hurt  in  heaven,   and   no  dark;    will  there  be, 
mamma  ?  ' ' 

' '  No,  dear  child,  the  blessed  Bible  tells  us,  '  The  glory  of  God  will  lighten  it 
and  the  Lamb  [our  /esus]  is  the  light  thereof. '  ' ' 


Thb  following  is  a  very  pretty  legend  to  inscribe  on  a  card  or  banner  and 
hang  in  a  bedroom: 

A   GOOD-NIGHT   WISH. 

Sleep  sweetly  in  this  quiet  room, 

Oh,  thou,  whoe'er  thou  art, 
And  let  no  mournful  yesterdays 

Disturb  thy  anxious  heart; 
Nor  let  to-morrow  scare  th)^  rest 

With  dreams  of  coming  ill; 
Thy  Maker  is  thy  changeless  friend. 

His  love  upholds  thee  still. 

Sleep  sweetly  then,  good-night. 


Three  Baskets. 


Bertha's  basket:   Maiden  Bertha,  with  the  merry  dancing  eyes. 
And  the  brow  whereon  a  shadow  would  be  such  a  rare  surprise — 
What  has  she  within  this  dainty  shell  of  rushes  silken-lined, 
Where  so  many  maiden  musings  innocently  are  enshrined  ? 

Gaily  mingling  ends  of  worsted;  beads  that  glitter  silver-bright; 
Fleece  of  Shetland,  light  and  airy,  lying  there  in  waves  of  white; 
Broidered  linen,  wrought  for  pastime  in  the  dream}^  summer  hours; 
And  perhaps  a  poet's  idyl,  read  amid  the  leaves  and  flowers. 

Bertha's  basket:   Mother  Bertha.     Ah,  serener  light  hath  grown 

In  the  thoughtful  eyes;  the  forehead  hath  some  flitting  sorrows  known. 

In  the  larger  basket  looking,  other  handiwork  we  find, 

Where  the  woman's  heart  its  pleasure,  love  and  longing  hath  enshrined. 


(6o) 


"  It  is  they  who  are  storehouses  of  story  and  song." 


THREE  BASKETS.  6i 

Little  aprons;  little  dresses;  little  trousers  at  the  knee 
Patched  with  tender  art,  that  no  one  shall  the  mother's  piecing  see; 
Flannel,  worked  with  skill  and  patience;  and  an  overflowing  store, 
Every  size  of  little  stockings,  always  needing  one  stitch  more. 

Bertha's  basket:   Grandma  Bertha;  for  the  years  have  run  their  way 
And  it  seems  in  looking  backward  it  was  only  yesterday 
That  the  maiden  tripped  so  lightly,  that  the  matron  had  her  cares- 
Age  slips  on  so  gently,  gently,  like  an  angel  unawares. 

Grandma's  work  is  contemplative.     With  the  scintillance  of  steel 
Gleam  the  needles,  smooth  with  flashing  off  the  toe  or  round  the  heel, 
Leisure  days  have  found  the  lady;  but  her  face  is  deeply  lined, 
And  her  heart  is  as  a  temple,  where  are  hallowed  memories  shrined. 

As  along  the  dusty  high-road  rise  the  milestones  one  by  one. 
Telling  here  and  there  the  distance,  until  all  the  way  is  done. 
So  a  woman's  basket  marks  her  journey  o'er  the  path  of  life. 
Holding  dearest  work  for  others,  whether  she  be  maid  or  wife. 

— Frovi  Easter  Bells  (Harper  &  Brothers). 


^W 


CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Dining  Room. 

HE  especial  need  of  the  dining  room  is  cheerfulness.  Three  times 
a  day  the  family  gather  around  the  table  for  their  meals,  and 
as  good  digestion  waits  on  appetite,  and  appetite  is  more  or 
less  dependent  on  good  temper,  as  well  as  on  good  food,  it  is 
quite  advisable  to  have  the  dining  room  a  cheerful  place. 
If  possible,  let  it  be  a  sunny  room.  The  daily  setting  of  the 
table  and  the  making  it  attractive  should  be  a  matter  of  pride 
and  solicitude  in  every  home. 

The  table  linen  need  not  be  fine  for  common  use,  but 
it  should  be  of  good  average  wearing  quality,  and  should 
always  be  scrupulously  neat  and  clean.  Napkins  of  different  sizes  are  requisite 
for  the  different  meals,  the  dinner  napkin  being  much  larger  than  that  which  is 
used  for  breakfast  and  luncheon. 

In  dishes  one  may  choose  as  she  pleases.  The  advantage  of  dishes  which  are 
entirely  white  is  that  if  they  are  broken  they  can  easily  be  replaced,  but  few  people 
in  these  days  admire  the  cold  effect  of  perfectly  plain  white  china.  China  with  a 
gilt  band  is  always  very  beautiful,  and  it  too  can  be  easily  replaced  if  a  piece  is 
unfortunately  chipped  or  broken.  There  are  very  beautiful  and  not  expensive 
dishes  which  come  in  Japanese  patterns,  or  in  imitation  of  the  old  blue  china 
which  used  to  be  seen  on  our  grandmothers'  tables,  and  there  is  to  be  found  anj^ 
variety  of  beautiful  decorated  china  to  suit  almost  any  purse.  The  fad  of  the 
moment  is  to  have  variety  rather  than  uniformity,  and  consequently  no  more 
appropriate  gift  can  be  given  from  one  friend  to  another  than  a  beautiful  bit  of 
china. 

Shelves  running  around  the  dining  room  wall  about  a  foot  from  the  ceiling 
may  accommodate  jars,  vases,  and  other  bits  which  are  perhaps  defaced  a  little  or 
have  the  handle  missing,  but  which  at  that  height  simply  become  ornamental. 
Beautiful  plates  hung  up  on  the  wall  are  highly  decorative,  and  one  sometimes 
picks  up  at  a  bargain  pieces  which  answer  beautifully  for  this  purpose.  Thus,  I 
saw  last  year  a  half-dozen  magnificent  plates  which  had  probably  originally  cost 
several  dollars  apiece.     They  were  slightly  injured  and  the  dealer  sold  them  for 

(62) 


THE   DINING   ROOM. 


63 


thirty  cents  apiece.     One  of  my  friends  bought  them  to  ornament  her  room,  and 
very  beautiful  they  looked  upon  her  wall. 

Where  there  is  a  daughter  in  the  house  who  has  a  turn  for  painting  china,  she 
can  make  very  lovely  fruit  sets  and  dessert  sets  which  have  the  charm  to  her  and 
to  her  parents  of  being  her  handiwork,  and  which  add  VQvy  much  to  the  beauty 
of  the  table  when  it  is  set  for  a  gala  occasion. 

A  few  flowers  in  a  vase  on  the  centre  of  the  table,  or  a  growing  plant,  is 
always  an  addition.      Knives  and  forks  should  be  bright  and  in  good  condition; 
and  the  housekeeper  who  values  the  peace  of  mind  of  the  family  should  look  to  it 
that  her  carving  knife  and  fork  are  in  good  order.     It  is  a  pity  to  use   the 
carving  knife  and  fork  for  anything   but   their 
legitimate  office,  and  it  is  always  a  mistake  to  let 
them   be  taken  for   the  indiscriminate  work  of 
the  kitchen;  they  should  be  kept  sedulously  for 
the  use  which  appertains  to  them,  namely, 
that  of  carving  meat  upon  the  table. 

Equally  spoons  of  all  kinds 
should  be  kept  bright.  Any  silver 
in  use  should  be  polished  carefully 


HIS   OWN   PLACE, 

once  a  week.  Silver  will  be  kept  in  very  good  order  if  each  day  it  is  dipped  intO' 
a  bath  of  very  hot  water,  in  which  there  are  a  few  drops  of  ammonia.  If  it  is 
then  wiped  dry  with  a  soft  cloth  it  will  not  require  cleaning  so  often  as  if  it 
is  carelessly  put  away  without  this  attention. 

Glass  and  fine  china  should  be  washed  by  themselves.  In  Virginia  and  other 
Southern  States,  also  in  old  New  England,  it  is  the  task  of  the  lady  to  wash  her 
fine  and  beautiful  china.  Consequently  she  is  able  to  keep  her  sets  intact,  and  the 
few  minutes  which  she  devotes  day  by  day  to  this  work  repay  her  in  the  neatness 
of  her  dishes  and  in  their  immunity  from  breakage. 


64 


THE   DINING   ROOM. 


We  should  make  it  a  rule  never  to  bring  our  fits  of  the  blues  or  our  temporary- 
spells  of  crossness  to  the  dining  room.  Perhaps  you  may  think  it  rather  hard 
always  to  carry  a  cheerful  face  to  the  table,  yet  it  is  positively  necessary  to  do  this 
if  there  is  to  be  real  sunshine  around  the  board  where  the  faniilv  meet. 


"  I  am  not  in  sympathy  with  the  old-fashioned  rule  that 
forbids  them  to  speak." 

Children  should  not  be  permitted  to  interrupt  conversa- 
tion by  frequent  questions,  yet   I  am  not  in  sympathy  with 

the  old-fashioned  rigid  rule  which  forbids  them  to  speak  at  all.  It  is  very  far 
from  agreeable  to  sec  children  obliged  to  behave  like  mutes  at  a  funeral  while  they 
are  seated  at  the  table  with  their  parents.  Besides,  it  adds  greatly  to  the  pleasure 
of  all  if  conversation  at  meal-time  be  joined  in  by  the  old  and  the  young  alike, 
always  with  care  that  no  one  is  impolite  to  another,  and  that  the  leading  part  be 
taken  by  the  older  ones.     The  far  too  common  habit  of  taciturnity  at  meals — 


THE   DINING   ROOM.  65 

people  sitting  and  eating  in  haste  or  in  solemn  silence — is  greatly  to  be  depre- 
cated. There  should  be  fun  and  wholesome  enjoyment  at  our  meals,  and  the 
parents  who  take  pains  to  introduce  pleasant  subjects  will  find  that  the  behavior 
of  the  children  will  be  very  much  better  for  the  interest  and  the  agreeable  talk. 

Sometimes  indulgent  mothers  forget  that  table  manners  are  more  than  almost 
any  other  minor  thing  important,  and  that  these  are  formed  earlj'  in  life.  To 
suffer  a  child  to  eat  in  a  slovenly  or  greedy  way,  to  use  its  knife,  to  pour  milk 
into  its  saucer,  or  do  any  other  thing  which  is  not  regarded  as  polite  in  good 
society,  is  to  do  the  child  a  great  wrong.  The  manner  of  eating  at  once  stamps 
the  lady  or  the  gentleman,  and  in  public  places,  at  private  tables,  in  company 
everywhere,  a  familiarity  with  table  uses  of  refinement  shows  that  a  child  has 
been  carefully  brought  up  among  people  of  good  breeding. 

In  changing  dishes  for  separate  courses,  if  there  is  a  maid  to  do  it,  she  must 
take  plates  and  cups  from  persons  separately,  not  piling  everything  upon  a  waiter 
at  once.  She  will  learn  to  move  about  with  quietness,  and  to  make  whatever 
changes  are  necessary'  without  disturbing  the  progress  of  the  meal  and  without 
constant  coaching  from  her  mistress,  who  should  take  pains  to  teach  her  servant 
to  wait  in  the  best  manner  and  should  insist  upon  right  service  when  the  family 
are  alone,  and  then  never  give  herself  any  further  concern  about  it. 

Where  there  is  no  one  to  wait  upon  the  table  the  family  may  ver>'  easily  and 
very  comfortably  wait  upon  themselves,  and  really  there  is  much  pleasure  in  not 
having  any  stranger  about  to  hear  conversation  or  to  interrupt  the  pleasant  flow 
of  confidential  talk.  The  daughter  will  then  quietly  rise  and  remove  plates 
between  courses,  bring  on  the  dessert  at  the  proper  time,  and  do  whatever  is 
necessary  in  officiating  as  her  mother's  lieutenant.  Ease  of  manner  and  gentle 
breeding  are  shown  in  man}'  homes  where  the  work  is  all  done  by  the  lady  of  the 
house  and  her  children. 

In  one  home  where  I  have  visited  the  tea  is  alwaj\s  made  and  served  by  the 
father,  as  he  has  a  fancy  that  he  knows  how  to  make  tea  better  than  a  woman 
possibly  can,  and  indeed  the  quality  of  his  brewing  is  so  fine  that  the  slight  inno- 
vation is  quite  pardonable.  In  making  tea,  let  me  observe  in  passing  that  it  is 
found  to  perfection  in  houses  where  it  is  made  upon  the  table — not  suffered  to 
stand  and  steep  a  long  time  upon  the  range. 

Of  course,  for  a  good  cup  of  tea  one  needs  primarih'  a  favorite  brand  of  tea, 
either  a  good  blend  or  an  excellent  quality  of  India  or  Ceylon  tea.  Nothing  on 
this  earth  quite  equals  the  delicious  flavor  of  a  pure  Ceylon  tea,  which  has  about  it 
the  aroma  of  flowers,  and  is  quite  free  from  the  acrid  qualities  which  some 
renowned  teas  unfortunately  possess.  The  next  essential  is  an  earthen  teapot; 
then  water  freshly  drawn  and  freshly  boiled.  When  water  stands  a  long  while 
simmering  on  the  back  of  a  range,  the  kettle  being  simply  filled  up  from  time  to 
5 


66 


THE   DINING   ROOM. 


time,  the  water  lias  a  flat  taste  and  does  not  have  about  ii  the  life  which  is  needed 
to  make  good  tea.  The  water  having  come  to  a  brisk  boiling  point,  put  your  tea 
into  the  pot  the  proportion  of  a  scant  teaspoonful  for  each  cup,  pour  on  the  water, 


HF,R    FKW   I,ETTERS  WIJRE   SPASMODIC    AND    BRIEF. 

and  let  it  stand  for  four  minutes,  not  longer.  Then  pour  it  off  and  you  will  have 
delicious  nectar.  It  may  be  served  with  cream  and  sugar,  or  with  slices  of  lemon 
and  sugar  to  taste— just  as  one  prefers. 


THE   DINING   ROOM. 


67 


Coffee,  too,  to  be  served  in  perfection  should  be  freshly  made.  It  is  better  to 
grind  the  quantity  you  need  just  before  using  it.  If  you  desire  to  make  boiled 
coffee,  mix  the  grounds  with  a  little  cold  water  and  part  of  an  egg.  Put  this 
mixture  in  your  coffee-pot  and  pour  on  as  much  boiling  water  as  the  quantity  of 
coffee  you  wish  to  make.  People  like  coffee  in  such  various  degrees  of  strength 
that  it  is  well  to  give  but  an  arbitrary  measure.  By  experimenting  you  can  very 
soon  discover  how  strong  or  how  weak  you  like  yours,  but  the  beverage  must  be 
clear.  If  the  coffee  is  the  old-fashioned  boiled  kind  you  simply  let  it  come  to  the 
boil  on  the  front  of  your  stove,  then  push  back  and  allow  it  to  stand  about  five 
minutes  before  .serving  it. 

Delicious  coffee  may  be  made  in  a  French  coffee-pot  without  the  use  of  an 
egg.  In  this  case  there  are  strainers  of  wire  of  a  fine  sieve-like  quality  which  fit 
into  the  pot.  Yovt  put  your  coffee  in  a  receptacle  which  comes  for  it,  and  pour 
on  your  boiling  water.  The  water  percolates  .slowly  through  the  sieve  and  gets  in 
its  pa.ssage  the  full  strength  of  the  coffee,  losing  none  of  the  aroma.  If  you  wish 
it  very  strong  you  will  turn  it  back  two  or  three  times,  as  each  time  it  will  acquire 
more  of  the  strength  of  the  coffee. 

Both  coffee  and  tea  may  very  properly  and  with  very  little  trouble  be  made  on 
the  table  if  the  housekeeper  chooses  to  take  the  trouble.  Both  of  these  are 
sometimes  served  after  meals  in  an  adjoining  room  while  the  family  sit  about  and 
prolong  the  pleasure  they  had  at  the  table  by  a  little  social  conversation. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
The    Library. 

O  a  genuine  lover  of  books  no  house  is  completely  furnished  wliich 
1^       has  not  a  good  many  of  them,  not  arranged  formally  in  one  room, 
\^^'     but  scattered  all  over  the  house.     Still,   whenever  one  can  have 
a  library   it  is  a  great  comfort  and  pleasure,   and  the  nucleus 
of  one  may  easily  be  formed  in  the  early  married  life.     If  a  small 
sum  be  set  aside  for  the  purchase  of  books,  and  care  be  exercised  :'n 
the   selection,   the   householder  will  find   that    by   degrees  the   stock 
of  books  is  multiplied. 

A  library  may  very  properly  open  out  of  a  dining  room  or  be  the  interme- 
diate apartment  between  the  dining-room  and  the  parlor  or  drawing  room.  It 
should  have  good  light.  This  is  very  important,  as  by  day  those  who  are  reading 
should  not  have  their  eyes  undul}-  taxed,  and  by  night  the  library  is  best  equipped 
which  has  a  pleasant  central  light  and  two  or  three  good  lamps,  either  in  brackets 
or  on  tables.  Cushioned  window-seats  add  a  touch  of  luxury  to  a  librar\-,  and  a 
narrow  divan  running  entirely  around  the  room  is  also  very  appropriate  and  not 
beyond  the  most  moderate  purse,  as  it  may  easily  be  homemade.  A  few  easy 
chairs,  a  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  a  desk,  and  low  book-cases  in  recesses 
against  the  walls,  and  the  library  has  all  it  needs  in  the  way  of  what  ma}' be  called 
its  scaffolding. 

But  no  library  is  complete  until  it  is  furnished  with  books,  and  of  these  there 
is  so  great  a  variet}'  that  each  house  may  have  its  own  individuality  in  this 
respect.  We  may  regard  books  in  a  fourfold  aspect.  In  the  first  place  there  are 
all  those  useful  volumes  which  are  needful  for  the  ser\'ice  of  the  mind.  Promi- 
nent among  these  are  school  text-books,  which  are  usually  admirable  conipen- 
diums  of  useful  knowledge.  They  are  abridged  by  careful  hands  from  wider 
volumes,  and  in  hi.story,  geography,  applied  science,  language,  rhetoric,  and 
indeed  upon  ever}'  subject  one  finds  a  school  text-book  an  exceedingly  handy  and 
comprehensive  book  of  reference.  One  may  find  in  the  ordinary  school  reading 
books  of  children,  beginning  with  those  which  are  prepared  for  the  little  ones,  and 
going  on  to  those  which  are  meant  for  advanced  classes,  what  are  really  stepping- 
stones  to  the  best  literature.  Children  should  be  taught  to  treat  their  school 
books  with  respect,  and  not  to  deface  them  by  scribbling  or  any  careless  use,  but 

(68) 


THE   IJBRARY. 


69 


to  regard  them   as  important  property  which  is  entitled  to  generous .  treatment 
and  real  regard. 

Dictionaries  rank  very  high  in  the  class  of  reference  books,  without 
which  no  library  is  really  equipped.  There  are  many  of  these  which  the 
scholarly  person   enjoys  having,  and  no  house  is  complete  in  which  there  is  not 

either  a  "Webster's,"  "  Stormonth's, "  or  other  good  dictionary.     For  those  who 

II 


"  It  is  not  always  expensive." 

can  afford  it,  nothing  surpasses  either  the  "Century"  or  the  "Standard  Dic- 
tionary. ' '  The  value  of  a  dictionary  is  not  alone  in  its  accurate  spelling,  but  in  the 
fact  that  it  gives  a  number  of  meanings  of  words,  and  shows  by  quotations  from 
the  best  authors  in  how  many  ways  the  word  can  be  used. 

A  dictionary,  though  not  very  consecutive,  is  really  very  interesting  reading 
to  a  student  of  philology.     In  the  good  dictionary  we  find  derivatives,  and  see. 


70 


THE    LIBRARY. 


how  our  English  tongue  has  been  born  from  old  words;  how  the  Latin  and  the 
Greek  and  the  French  and  Spanish  and  the  Norse  tongues  have  all  contributed 
to  it.  We  acquire  a  certain  reverence  for  our  mother  tongue  when  we  study  a 
good  dictionary-.  Beside  a  familiarity  with  common  words  the  scholar  needs  to 
have  acquaintances  with  the  richer  and  more  sonorous  and  ponderous  words,  so 
that  his  vocabulary  need  not  be  limited,  but  may  be  rich  and  full.  There  are 
beautiful  words  which  are  like  embroidery  upon  .silk,  and  there  are  .short,  direct, 
terse  words  which  have  the  forceful  strength  of  a  hammer's  blow.  The  .scholar 
will  need  them  all,  and  in  the  intelligent  American  household  the  dictionary 
should  have  a  high  place. 

Next  in  the  library  should  come  a  good  encyclopedia.  This  may  be  pur- 
chased volume  by  volume.  It  is  not  always  necessaril)'  expensive,  and  there  are 
often  chances  to  get  a  good  encyclopedia  without  paying  an  enormous  price  for  it. 
An  atlas  of  the  world,  with  maps,  is  another  possession  worth  having;  also  his- 
torical charts  of  different  countries  showing  the  progress  in  invention  and  discovery, 
as  well  as  in  freedom  and  civilization  in  different  countries  at  the  same  time. 

A  dictionar\'  of  antiquities,  a  good  reader's  handbook  and  a  compendium  of 
quotations  will  make  the  reference  part  of  the  home  library  ver\-  complete.  In 
mentioning  these  I  do  not  forget  that  if  you  have  the  good  fortune  to  live  in  a 
town  where  there  is  a  free  circulating  library  you  may  not  need  all  these  3'ourself, 
though  it  will  be  a  joy  to  have  them  if  you  feel  that  you  can  afford  to  so  indulge 
your  taste.  A  doctor,  a  lawyer,  a  clergyman  alwa^^s  has  his  own  peculiar  working 
library.  For  the  ordinary  reader  it  is  not  necessary'  to  have  books  on  special  sub- 
jects, but  it  is  quite  worth  while  to  possess  some  of  the  works  of  standard  authors, 
both  in  English  literature  and  in  translations.  These  books  come  under  the  head 
not  of  servants  but  of  friends.  The}-  will  stand  by  j-ou  and  be  your  resource  and 
your  cheer  all  the  days  of  your  life. 

Have  a  sprinkling  of  the  poets  and  the  essayists,  and  do  not  forget  that  we 
all  love  the  stor\--teller,  and  that  the  complete  librar}^  has  a  very  large  amount  of 
Action  on  its  shelves.  Also,  do  not  turn  from  books  of  biography.  The  lives  of 
people  are  alwaj-s  interesting  to  others,  and  one  gets  a  great  deal  of  contemporary 
liistory  in  the  memoirs  of  eminent  men  and  women,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  ' '  Life 
of  Lord  Lawrence,"  and  in  "The  Story  of  Two  Noble  Lives,"  in  which  one 
obtains  a  very  clear  and  succinct  statement  of  the  Indian  nuitiny.  or  in  the  lives 
of  the  Rossettis,  and  of  Lord  Tennyson  and  of  the  Carlyles,  which  incidentally 
bring  in  a  great  deal  of  the  history  of  the  England  of  their  day.  Everybody  has 
not  a  taste  for  biography.  To  those  who  love  it  it  is  as  the  very  bread  and  water 
by  which  men  live. 

A  library  should  be  a  growth.  If  we  had  money  enough  to  purchase  a  full 
library  at   once  it  would  not  give  us  the   pleasure  that   it  does  when  by  small 


THE   LIBRARY. 


71 


accretions  and  accumulations,  day  by  day  and  year  by  year,  it  grows  upon  our 
hands.     This  book  is  the  gift  of  a  dear  friend.     We  never  look  at  it  without 


"A  doctor,  a  lawyer,  a  clergyman  always  has  his  own  peculiar  working  library." 

remembering  the  red-letter  day  when  she  presented  it  to  us.     This  other  is  the 
autograph  copy  sent  us  by  an  author  with  whose  friendship  we  have  been  honored; 


^2  THE   LIBRARY. 

money  could  not  buy  it.  For  still  another  book  we  saved  and  planned  and  did 
without,  and  laid  up  money  a  little  at  a  time  until  the  book  was  our  own.  We 
cannot  put  a  value  in  dollars  and  cents  on  a  library  which  is  the  development  of 
slow  toil  and  happy  years. 

There  are  people  who  care  a  great  deal  about  fine  bindings,  and  their  libraries 
are  rich  in  stately  volumes,  which  show  the  finest  skill  of  the  engraver,  the  paper- 
maker  and  the  binder;  but  the  genuine  book-lover  does  not  always  care  for  style 
and  costly  dress  upon  his  books;  he  would  rather  have  more  books,  even  if  they 
were  not  so  elegantly  bound.  A  library  in  the  house  presupposes  culture,  and 
greatly  assists  the  intellectual  development  of  the  children. 

Its  greatest  foe  is  that  irresponsible  person,  the  borrower  of  books,  who  does 
not  care  whether  he  or  she  returns  this  sort  of  property  or  not.  If  you  are 
generous  and  kind  and  lend  your  books,  you  will  do  well  to  make  a  little  memo- 
randum of  the  fact  of  its  loan  in  the  presence  of  the  person  who  takes  away  your 
book.  This  acts  as  a  check  upon  the  borrower,  reminding  him  or  her  to  return 
the  book  in  a  reasonable  time  and  in  good  condition.  Should  you  ever  borrow  a 
book  yourself,  be  sure  that  you  observe  every  precaution  against  injury  or  deface- 
ment. A  borrowed  book  should  always  be  covered  while  it  is  away  from  its  own 
home;  and  in  no  circumstances  should  the  person  who  borrows  any  volume  lend 
it  a  second  time  without  the  consent  of  the  first  owner. 

Susan  Coolidge  said  once  that  if  she  had  it  in  her  power  to  bestow  a  gift 
upon  the  cradle  of  a  babe,  she  would  endow  the  child  with  a  love  of  fun  and  a 
love  of  books.  Thus  equipped  any  little  pilgrim  may  set  out  upon  the  journey  of 
life  with  a  very  comfortable  prospect  of  making  happy  progress.  No  matter  how 
lonely  one  is,  no  matter  how  much  tried  and  troubled,  a  good  book  will  prove  a 
resource,  and  the  love  of  books  will  make  up  for  losses  of  many  kinds. 

There  are  always  individual  treasures  in  the  line  of  books  which  should  not 
be  kept  away  from  one's  own  room.  Let  the  son  or  daughter,  the  wife  and 
mother,  have  their  own  little  book-shelves  in  their  own  chambers,  where  they  may 
have  the  books  they  specially  love  and  have  the  sense  in  them  of  exclusive  and 
pleasant  ownership. 

As  for  book-cases,  I  never  like  mine  to  have  glass  doors  and  locks  and  keys, 
although  tney  are  certainly  kept  from  dust  by  being  protected  in  this  way.  Still, 
I  always  want  my  books  where  I  can  get  at  them  with  ease,  and  I  prefer  open 
shelves  and  the  trouble  of  frequent  dusting.  Silk  curtains,  or  curtains  of  chintz 
orsilkoline  or  cretonne,  drape  book-cases  effectively,  and  do  not  give  the  poor 
books  the  appearance  of  being  state  prisoners,  as  the  locked  book-case  does. 
There  is  opportunity,  if  you  have  low  book-cases,  for  pleasant  vases  and  other 
objects  of  interest  on  the  top  shelf,  and  for  having  beautiful  etchings  and  engrav- 
ings above  them.     It  is  a  matter  of  choice  whether  your  book-shelves  shall  run  to 


THE   LIBRARY. 


73 


the  top  of  the  room,  or  whether  they  shall  be  low,  leaving  space  on  the  walls  for 
appropriate  ornament. 


"  Fond  as  you  are  of  books,  there  is  only  one  book  that  you  will  value  at 
last;  and  with  your  head  on  the  pillow  you  will  hardly  care  to  be  told  that  a  new 


"   There  is  opportunity  if  j-ou  have  low  book  cases  for  pretty  vases  on  the  shelf." 

volume  of  some  great  history  is  published,  or  a  marvelous  j^oeni,  outranking  all 
its  predecessors.  No,  '  Read  me  the  twentj^-third  Psalm. '  '  Let  me  hear  the 
fourteenth  chapter  of  John. ' 


74  THE    LIBRARY. 

"  Dear  friend,  how  soon  God  can  make  that  Bible  precious — necessary-  either 
for  your  own  support  or  the  comfort  of  one  most  dear  to  you. 

' '  Take  the  Bible  now  as  your  best  treasure.  It  will  prove  green  pastures 
and  still  waters  along  your  daily  way. ' ' 


Says  a  pastor's  wife: 

' '  My  sunny  window  with  its  few  greens  has  been  one  of  my  pleasantest 
school  rooms  this  winter.  The  lessons  of  life  are  often  tedious,  and  we  are  slow 
to  comprehend,  when  sometimes  a  hint  of  the  real  meaning  will  come  to  us  from 
a  familiar  and  before  unnoticed  bit  in  our  surroundings.  My  hard}-  ivy  plant  was 
my  first  instructor.  It  had  passed  the  summer  in  the  garden.  Evidently  it  was 
loth  to  relinquish  its  freedom,  and  resented  the  confinement  of  glass  and  the 
forced  climbing  up  the  window  casement,  and  would  not  smile  by  so  much  as  one 
tender  little  leaf.  For  a  long  time  it  w'as  sullen  and  would  not  acknowledge  favors, 
till  at  last  the  warm  sunshine  has  forced  a  response,  and,  apparently  against  its 
will,  each  end  of  a  branch  is  bursting  with  life,  and,  creeping  up  even  through 
restraining  supports,  is  gladdening  me  with  its  delicate  new  leaves. 

"  Are  we  not  often  like  the  ivy  ?  Resenting  transplanting  from  some  suiuiy 
garden,  and  resisting  all  kindly  influences  in  the  new  life,  because  not  of  our  delib- 
erate choosing,  we  waste  many  months  when  we  might  be  enriching  other  lives  \iy 
the  graces  of  our  own.  Our  loving  Father  patiently  waits  for  us  to  realize  the 
warming  influences  of  His  love,  which  we  must  feel  enveloping  us  on  ever)-  side, 
and  in  which  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being  as  truly  as  the  plants  in  the 
rays  of  light.  Why  not  respond  quickly  to  His  constant  care  for  us.  and  climb 
toward  the  light,  stronger  because  of  restraining  bands  ?  Then  new  beauties  in 
our  characters  will  'prove  that  we  are  growing  under  His  tender  guidance.  '  For 
the  sun  meets  not  the  springing  bud  that  stretches  toward  him  with  half  the 
certainty  that  God,  the  source  of  all  good,  connnunicates  Himself  to  the  soul  that 
longs  to  partake  of  Him. ' 

*'  My  ambitious  Wandering  Jew  has  been  another  teacher.  In  quick  and 
ready  response  to  light  and  heat,  it  has  grown  luxuriantly  and  has  put  forth  its 
leaves  in  rapid  succession.  But,  alas  !  so  ready  is  it  to  respond  that  its  strength 
is  failing  and  the  leaves  become  smaller,  till  a  pigmy  colony  is  flourishing  in  its 
vase.  What  is  the  remedy,  how  curb  this  restless  activity  ?  Take  from  it  its 
sunshine  and  refreshing  showers  ?  Ah,  no  !  but  pluck  the  little  new  leaves  as  they 
peep  forth  from  the  last  hardly  formed  ones,  before  they  have  time  to  take  any 
strength  from  the  plant.  So  my  little  Wanderer  has  taught  the  lesson  that,  though  in 
a  genial  atmosphere,  it  is  easy  to  put  forth  new  efibrts,  yet  to  develop  in  the  best 
and  noblest  way,  we  must  constantly  curb  trifling  ambitions,  lest  our  time  be  taken 


THE   IVY. 


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76 


THE   LIBRARY 


up  by  usdess  little  things  and  our  strength  be  spent  by  responding  too  willingly  to 
every  djemaiid  on  thought  and  time.  The  woman  of  to-day  needs  particularlj' 
this  lesson — to  be  faithful  in  a  few  things.  Our  loving  Father  is  our  constant 
inspiration,  but  we  must  study  His  wishes  for  us  that  His  garden  of  our  lives  be 
not  overrun  with  useless  foliage. 


"  '  Books  in  the  running  brooks, 

Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything.'  " 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Back  Door. 

>-HE    careful  housekeeper    is  very  particular  about   her  back  door. 
That,  of  course,  is  not  in  evidence  to  the  public  gaze  as  is  the  front 
door,  and  she  of  careless  habit  and  nature  indisposed  to  exertion 
does  not  mind  whether  that  part  of  her  domain  which  comes  only 
under  the  eye  of  her  familj-  is  trim  and  well-ordered  or  the  reverse. 
One  ma}-  set  the  stamp  of  capabilit}'  and  niceness  exactlj^  by  looking  at 
a  person's  back  door.     Where  one  finds  a  general  air  of  disarray  about 
the  back  yard,  where  odds  and  ends  from  the  kitchen,  refuse  of  various 
kinds,  loose  papers,  and  the  flotsam  and  jetsam  of  the  house  are  allowed  to  accu- 
mulate around  the  back  steps,  it  is  a  sign  manual  of  inefficienc}-  on  the  part  of 
her  who  is  queen  of  the  house. 

Also  the  health  of  the  famih'  is  greatly  affected  by  the  care  which  is  taken  to 
keep  everything  around  the  back  door  as  it  should  be.  In  many  country  places, 
where  there  is  nothing  in  the  environment  to  suggest  anything  but  perfect  health, 
we  discover  mysterious  illnesses  breaking  out.  Often  we  ma}-  trace  these  to  some 
thoughtless  lack  of  supervision  on  the  part  of  householders.  Who  has  not  seen 
around  wood  piles  and  about  the  chicken  houses  and  the  various  barns  and  out- 
houses belonging  to  a  house,  proofs  of  absolute  neglect?  A  little  daily  care 
given  to  everything  which  has  to  do  with  the  environment  of  a  house  means  the 
difference  between  keeping  things  as  they  should  be  and  letting  them  go  to  hope- 
less waste  and  disorder. 

It  is  hardly  fair  that  the  care  of  the  back  door,  and  of  all  that  the  back  door 
means,  should  lie  as  a  burden  upon  one  person's  hands.  The  most  fastidious  house- 
keeper in  the  world  may  be  very  much  hampered  by  husband  and  children  and  do- 
mestics who  do  not  second  her  efforts.  Still,  it  is  worth  while  for  the  same  care  to  be 
given  to  the  back  of  the  house  as  to  the  front.  Then,  too,  there  is  a  moral  side 
Avhich  presents  itself  here.  Most  of  us  are  verj'  careful  alx)ut  our  compan}^  dress 
and  manners.  We  like  to  appear  well  to  the  outside  world.  But  are  we  always 
as  conscious  and  as  heedful  in  our  demeanor  to  those  of  our  own  families?  Do 
we  invariably  remember  that  there  is  a  side  presented  to  people  who  live  with  us 
which  is  not  discovered  by  those  who  are  merely  our  visitors  or  our  outside  friends  ? 
W^e  cannot  too  carefully  watch  the  back  doors  of  life,  we  cannot  too  constantly 

(77) 


78 


THE   BACK   DOOR. 


guard  ourselves  against  any  heedlessness  in  that  which  is  generally  unseen,  but 
which  has  to  do  with  the  very  foundations  of  good  living  and  high  morality. 

It  is  well  for  each  child  in  a  family  to  have  some  special  duty  about  the  house. 
In  a  large  family  where  I  am  sometimes  a  guest,  I  have  often  been  struck  with 
the  wonderful  celerity  with  which  the  daily  tasks  are  accomplished.  There  seems 
to  be  no  jarring,  no  particular  effort,  no  hurry  on  the  part  of  any  one  concerned, 
and  yet  everything  is  done.  One  boy  goes  at  a  regular  hour  either  before  or  after 
breakfast,  or  before  or  after  supper,  and  attends  to  certain  work  which  he  is  held 
responsible  for.  Another  has  perhaps  the  care  of  the  lawn.  One  sees  to  the 
pump,  keeping  the  tank  supplied  with  water.  Still  another  weeds  the  garden. 
One  feeds  the  chickens.  Each  child  in  the  large  family  moves  with  almost  mili- 
tary precision  to  his  appointed  task.     I  once  asked  the  father  of  the  family  how 

he  had  managed  to  get  his  chil- 
dren into  such  absolute  good  or- 
der, and  how  it  was  that  work 
inider  him  seemed  a  pleasure 
rather  than  a  toil. 

He  said,  "  My  wife  and  I 
began  right.  From  the  time  our 
children  were  small  we  accus- 
tomed them  to  implicit  obedi- 
ence, and  as  they  grew  old 
enough  we  gave  each  one  some 
share  in  the  work  of  the  house. 
I  take  it  for  granted  that  each  of  my  children  wull  do  what  he  is  told  to,  and 
should  there  be  any  failure  to  perform  a  task  at  the  allotted  time,  that  child  is 
sure  to  hear  from  me;  not  in  the  way  of  severity,  but  in  a  surprise  and  reproof 
which  he  feels.  Forgetfulness  is  not  accepted  as  an  excuse,  but  should  a  child 
forget  to  do  something  which  I  had  told  him,  I  would  expect  that  he  would  make 
it  up  before  going  to  school  or  to  play.  The  fact  is.  Madam,  that  any  place 
which  is  governed  by  law  is  a  happy  place,  and  our  home  is  under  the  dominion 
of  law  even  in  so  small  a  matter  as  our  back  door. ' ' 

Mats  and  scrapers  save  a  world  of  work,  and  careless  boys  may  learn  to  use 
them.  The  mother  builds  better  than  she  knows,  who  brings  up  her  lads  to  be 
tidy  about  the  house,  and  save  her  needless  work  and  needless  steps.  The  years 
are  flying  fast  and  the  boys  of  to-day  will  be  the  husbands  of  to-morrow.  A 
man's  mother  trains  him  for  all  his  life  in  those  early  years  when  he  is  plastic  in 
her  hands  as  the  soft  yielding  clay.  Let  her  impress  on  his  mind  in  boyhood  the 
value  of  seeming  trifles,  even  to  the  wiping  of  his  feet  at  the  back  door. 


"  One  feeds  the  chickens. " 


CHAPTER  IX. 


An  Open  Fire. 

E   lost  a  great  deal    from   our  lives  when  in  the  march   of 
modern  improvements  many  of  us  found  that  we  could 
dispense  with  a  fire  on  the  hearth.     A  furnace  in  the  cellar 
or  steam  pipes  diffusing  warmth   through  the  house  are 
certainly  very  comfortable  arrangements  for  the  Arctic  cold 
of  our  American  winters,  and  where  one  cannot  have  these 
for  actual  defence  against  the  rigors  of  the  severest  January  and 
February  weather  nothing  surpasses  a  good  old-fashioned  stove. 

But  for  cheer,  for  brightness,  for  making  the  home  alive  with  sparkle  and 
glow,  nothing  is  equal  to  an  open  fire.  It  may  be  just  a  handful  of  pine  knots, 
or  a  lump  or  two  of  soft  coal,  or,  best  of  all,  a  bundle  of  fagots  made  of  drift- 
wood which  has  tossed  about  on  the  sea  and  been  thrown  on  the  shore,  and  which 
is  full  of  all  sorts  of  poetical  associations  and  suggestions  of  storm  and  stress 
outside  as  it  lends  itself  to  comfort  within. 

Whatever  it  is,  the  open  fire  gives  the  last  touch  of  domesticity  to  a  home. 
It  is  worth  the  little  extra  expense  it  costs  to  have  its  daily  beauty  and  brightness, 
and  no  one  who  has  ever  been  able  to  compass  it  will  ever  again  do  without  its 
joy.  In  localities  where  wood  is  plenty  and  to  be  had  for  the  trouble  of  getting 
it,  people  may  indulge  themselves  in  rousing  fires  with  a  big  black  log,  or  a  roar- 
ing blaze  which  goes  joyously  up  the  chimney  and  diffuses  warmth  through  a 
large  room. 

That  is  for  the  dweller  in  the  country.  We  of  the  town  sometimes  have  to  be 
satisfied  with  a  mere  imitation  blaze  in  the  shape  of  a  gas  log,  and  this  is  better 
than  nothing,  but  best  of  all  is  the  real  thing  itself.  An  open  fire  disposes  one  to 
pleasant  low-toned  conversation,  to  telling  stories  in  the  firelight,  to  sitting  with 
a  child  cuddled  up  in  one's  arms,  to  retrospection,  to  all  sorts  of  pleasant  dream- 
ings  and  musings. 

Our  life  is  so  active,  so  filled  with  excitement,  that  we  are  much  too  little 
given  in  these  days  to  quiet  thought.  Anything  which  tempts  one  to  repose  is  a 
great  boon.  Indeed,  there  are  very  few  of  lis  who  would  not  be  the  better  for 
sitting  down  every  day  for  a  half  hour,  with  folded  hands,  simply  for  the  purpose 
of  thinking,  or  of  letting  the  mind  lie  fallow  without  much  effort  at  consecutive 
meditation. 

(79) 


So 


AN   OPEN   FIRE. 


I  know  how  many  women  will  smile  when  they  read  this,  and  will  say, 
"  This  writer  does  not  know  what  she  is  talking  about;"  but  indeed  I  do.  I  have 
led  for  many  years  an  intensely  occupied  life  myself,  and  I  never  in  the  world 
would  have  gotten  through  one-half  or  one-quarter  of  the  necessarj'  things  if  I 
had  not  made  a  point  of  quite  often  sitting  down,  folding  my  hands,  and  doing 


BEFORE   THE    EIREWGHT. 

just  nothing  at  all.  One  acquires  a  habit  of  restlessness  if  one  never  rests,  and 
deep  lines  come  in  the  forehead  and  the  voice  grows  querulous,  and  the  ner\^es 
rebel  unless  one  can  sometimes  rest.  Therefore,  if  possible,  have  not  onh'  the 
open  fire,  but  what  the  open  fire  stands  for:  a  home  centre  around  which  pleasant 
memories  may  gather  as  the  years  go  by 


AN   OPEN    FIRE.  8 1 

As  for  the  fuel  to  be  burned  in  your  fireplace,  the  question  will  be  naturally 
between  hickory  and  pine  and  birch  and  other  woods,  and  the  relative  merits  of 
soft  and  hard  coal.  You  will  decide  upon  that  according  to  your  purse,  and 
according  to  the  part  of  the  country  in  which  you  live.  But  do  not  at  once 
condemn  the  open  fire  as  an  extravagance.  When  your  day  comes  for  canvassing 
expenses,  see  if  there  is  not  something  else  which  you  can  do  without  and  indulge 
yourself  in  this.  All  winter  long  this  fire  will  furnish  your  room  in  a  way  that  noth- 
ing else  can.  It  will  take  the  place  of  fine  furniture,  it  will  second  the  welcome  3'ou 
give  your  guests,  it  will  add  greatly  to  the  real  elegance  of  your  home,  as  well  as 
to  its  comfort,  and  it  will  convey  to  all  beholders,  as  well  as  to  the  family  itself,  an 
impression  of  luxury.  An  open  fire,  a  few  books,  a  few  flowers,  a  lounge,  an 
easy  chair  or  two — and  a  room  is  well  equipped  for  the  ordinary  uses  of  life. 

Besides,  on  the  mere  score  of  health  a  good  deal  is  to  be  said  for  a  fireplace 
in  the  room.  It  insures  absolutel}'  good  ventilation.  There  are  mornings  and 
evenings  in  the  spring  and  fall  when  a  blaze  on  the  hearth  means  safety  from 
taking  cold,  and  when  you  do  not  at  all  need  a  warm  fire  in  the  furnace  or  in  the 
stove;  when,  indeed,  a  large  fire  would  mean  that  the  house  should  be  inconve- 
niently heated. 

In  the  sick-room  a  little  fire  is  very  much  to  be  desired.  Often  the  invalid 
needs  only  enough  warmth  to  take  away  the  chill  from  the  room.  Do  not  be  in 
5'our  house  one  of  those  tyrannical  people  who  never  has  a  fire  lighted  until  a 
certain  day  in  the  fall,  and  who  never  keeps  fire  in  after  a  certain  day  in  the  spring. 
In  our  changeable  climate  we  cannot  have  hard  and  fast  regulations  of  this  kind. 
If  we  are  wise  we  will  not  be  bowed  down  in  any  such  iron  fa.shion  as  this,  but  we 
will  do  what  is  for  the  comfort  of  ourselves  and  our  children. 

You  know  how  the  baby  loves  to  toast  its  little  toes  before  the  fire  !  What 
pleasure  the  boys  and  girls  take  in  roasting  apples  themselves,  seeing  them  sput- 
ter, and  finally  reach  the  right  turn  in  the  genial  warmth  !  What  a  delight  to 
eat  apples  and  potatoes  which  one  cooks  one's  self  by  the  fire  !  The  best  cooking, 
let  me  say  in  passing,  which  I  have  ever  eaten  in  my  life  was  done  wholly  before 
a  great  open  fire  in  a  Southern  city.  Old  Aunt  Hannah,  stately  as  an  African  queen, 
carrying  herself  with  the  erectness  and  aplomb  of  a  woman  in  society,  her  bright 
turban  on  her  head,  her  little  checked  shawl  over  her  shoulders,  her  blue  apron 
around  her  waist,  would  make  and  cook  beside  this  open  fire  such  rolls  and  corn 
bread  and  wheaten  loaves  as  I  never  expect  to  taste  again  in  this  world.  A  duck 
or  a  piece  of  meat  roasted  in  this  way  retained  all  the  juices,  and  far  surpassed 
anything  which  our  finest  modern  inventions  can  show.  It  seemed  hard  for  Aunt 
Hannah  to  lift  the  heavy  pots  from  the  crane,  to  rake  the  ashes  over  her  spiders, 
and  to  bend  as  she  had  to  above  this  great  fireplace  which  cast  its  eerie  redness 
over  the  dark  kitchen  in  which  it  was  placed,  but  she  laughingly  made  ligrht  of  all 
6 


82 


AN   OPEN    FIRE. 


the  work,  and  when  sometimes  in  my  inexperience  I  would  venture  upon  direc- 
tions and  suggestions,  she  would  say,  in  the  most  dignified  and  j^et  affectionate 
manner,  "You  go  'long,  honey,  into. the  house.  Your  business  is  to  eat  things; 
my  business  is  to  cook  'em.     We  will  both  cling  to  our  own  side  of  de  house," 

Speaking  of  a  cheerful  fire  leads  me  to  think  of  cheerful  tones,  looks  and 
smiles.  A  German  writer,  commenting  on  these,  tells  us  that  "we  feel  with 
every  heart-beat  the    power  of  that  noble,  good  behavior  which  can   never  be 

acquired.  This  power  cannot  be 
defined  in  words,  but  whoever 
has  tried  to  set  it  at  defiance  will 
understand  in  what  it  consists. 

"Is  it  not  an  elevating,  a 
sublime  feeling,  that  it  lies  in 
the  power  of  us  parents  to  en- 
dow our  sons  and  our  daugh- 
ters with  anj-thing  so  excellent  ? 
Something  which  will  open  to 
them  the  portals  of  good  society 
and  offer  at  the  same  time  a 
mighty  weapon  to  protect  them 
against  every  danger. 

' '  The  secret  of  education  in 
good  behavior  and  deportment 
is  more  easy  to  understand  than 
one  generally  believes.  It  is  ex- 
pressed in  the  sentence:  Never 
allow  in  \^our  house  a  word,  a 
look,  an  act  that  differs  from  the 
words,  looks  and  acts  you  use  in 
the  best  society. 

' '  For   instance,    the   li  1 1 1  e 

words  '  please'  and  'thank  you  ' 

are  so  quickly  said,  why  do  you 

only  take  the  time  for  them  with  strangers  ?     It  is  not  beneath   the  dignity  of 

father  or  mother  to  impart  every  request  in  an  entreating  manner,  and  to  return 

thanks  for  what  is  granted. 

"  When  the  mother  says  to  her  little  daughter,  '  Please,  L,izzie,  pick  up  my 
ball,'  and  receives  the  yarn  with  a  friendly,  'Thank  5'ou  kindly,  my  child,'  then 
she  can  be  convinced  the  child  will  speak  in  a  similar  way  to  her  brothers  and 
sisters  and  to  the  servants. 


"  This  great  fire-place  which  cast  its  eerie  redness 
over  the  dark  kitchen." 


UNCANONIZED   SAINTS.  83 

"When  the  father  jumps  up  politely  to  take  the  heavy  basket  which  the 
mother  holds  iu  her  hand,  the  next  time  the  bo}-  will  do  it.  The  servants  in  such 
a  house  will  soon  be  imbued  with  the  universal  spirit  of  politeness,  kindness  and 
attention  on  the  part  of  all  the  members  of  the  family  to  each  other. 

"  If  you  say  to  your  cook,  '  Please  bring  me  a  glass  of  water,'  she  will  of 
her  own  accord  place  the  glass  on  a  plate,  and  bring  it  in  a  nice  manner. 

"Light,  much  light,  must  be  let  into  even  the  most  remote  corners,  that 
should  be  the  rule  in  all  things,  and  the  children  who  grow  up  in  the  clear,  sun- 
shiny atmosphere  will  know  how  to  fill  their  position  in  life  well  enough,  whether 
Providence  places  them  in  modest  circumstances  or  gives  them  a  coronet  in  their 
coat-of-arms." 


Uncanonized  Saints. 

Not  all  the  saints  are  canonized; 

There's  lots  of  them  close  by; 
There's  some  of  them  in  my  own  ward, 

Some  in  my  family; 
They're  thick  here  in  my  neighborhood, 

They  throng  here  in  my  street; 
My  sidewalk  has  been  badly  worn 

By  their  promiscuous  feet. 

Not  all  the  heroes  of  the  world 

Are  apotheosized; 
Their  names  make  our  directories 

Of  very  ample  size. 
And  almost  every  family 

Whose  number  is  complete, 
Has  one  or  more  about  the  board 

When  they  sit  down  to  eat. 

Not  all  the  martyrs  of  the  world 

Are  in  the  Martyrology; 
Not  all  their  tribe  became  extinct 

In  some  remote  chronology. 
Why  weep  for  saints  long  dead  and  gone  ? 

There's  plenty  still  to  meet; 
Put  on  you  wraps  and  call  upon 

The  saints  upon  your  street. 


84  CONSECRATION. 

And  Fox's  martyrs  were  strong  souls, 

But  still  their  likes  remain; 
There's  good  old  Mother  Haggert}', 

And  there  is  sweet  Aunt  Jane. 
You  know  them  just  as  well  as  I, 

Since  they're  a  numerous  brood, 
For  they  are  with  you  all,  and  live 

In  every  neighborhood. 


Strength  for  the  Day. 

"If  it  costs  me  such  efforts  to  conquer 

The  hasty  or  unkind  word — 
If  by  each  faint  breath  of  temptation 

The  depths  of  my  spirit  are  stirred — 
If  I  stumble  and  fall  at  each  hindrance. 

When  a  Christian  should  conqueror  be — 
Dare  I  think — dare  I  hope — O  my  Saviour! 

That  I  could  have  died  for  Thee  ? 

* '  Dare  I  talk  of  the  martyr' s  courage. 

And  the  love  that  went  smiling  to  death; 
I,  who  fail  in  such  simple  duties. 

Forgetting  my  hope  and  my  faith?" 
Then  a  light  broke  in  on  my  sadness. 
These  words  brought  comfort  to  me — 
'  'Accepted  in  Christ,  the  beloved, ' ' 
*  'As  thy  day  so  thy  strength  shall  be. ' ' 


Consecration. 

Take  my  life  and  let  it  be 
Consecrated,  Lord,  to  Thee. 
Take  my  hands  and  let  them  move 
At  the  impulse  of  Thy  love. 
Take  my  feet,  and  let  them  be 
Swift  and  beautiful  for  Thee. 
Take  my  voice  and  let  me  sing 
Always,  only,  for  my  King. 


TRUST.  85 


Take  my  lips  and  let  them  be 
Filled  with  messages  from  Thee. 
Take  my  silver  and  my  gold, 
Not  a  mite  would  I  withhold. 
Take  my  moments  and  my  days, 
Let  them  flow  in  ceaseless  praise. 
Take  my  intellect  and  use 
Every  power  as  Thou  shalt  choose. 

Take  my  will  and  make  it  Thine; 
It  shall  be  no  longer  mine. 
Take  my  heart,  it  is  Thine  own! 
It  shall  be  Thy  royal  throne. 


Trust. 

I  know  not  if  to-morrow 

Shall  bless  me  like  to-day; 
Of  night  I  sometimes  borrow 

Dark  clouds  and  shadows  gray; 
But  sinful,  sick,  and  weary. 

Of  this  I  still  am  sure: 
No  clouds  or  shadows  dreary 

Shall  my  sweet  heaven  obscure. 

Oh,  much  is  left  uncertain 

In  this  strange  life  below; 
But  faith  lifts  up  the  curtain, 

And  sees  the  inner  glow; 
And  nothing  now  can  move  me, 

Nor  shake  my  joy  so  pure, 
For  Christ  has  stooped  to  love  me, 

And  of  His  love  I'm  sure. 


CHAPTER  X. 
The  Door-Yard. 

HETHER  or  not  one  can  have  any  door-yard  at  all  depends,  of 
course,  on  the  place  where  one  lives.  I  am  taking  it  for 
granted,  however,  that  you  have  at  least  a  little  patch  of 
ground  before  your  door,  which  you  may  plant  with  hardy 
flowers,  or  in  which  from  3ear  to  3'ear  you  may  have  a  brave  show 
of  the  bright  little  flowers  which  come  in  the  spring,  or  the  beautiful  and  brilliant 
things  which  delight  our  eyes  in  the  fall. 

If  one  has  only  a  wee  bit  of  lawn,  that  may  be  planted  with  grass  and  kept 
smooth  and  velvet}'  by  constant  care  with  the  lawn-mower,  or  by  attention  in 
watering  so  that  the  roots  do  not  become  parched  or  dry.  The  more  space  there  is 
for  this  beautiful  green  grass  rippling  up  to  the  very  door-step,  the  better  and  more 
beautiful  3'our  home  will  be;  atid  it  is  quite  worth  a  little  care  night  and  morning 
in  the  joy  it  gives  you  to  have  this  emerald  freshness  on  which  to  rest  the  eyes, 
and  to  have  the  sweet  reminder  constantly  before  you  of  the  Heavenly  Father's 
love  and  care. 

Think  of  the  millions  and  millions  of  grass  blades  waving  in  the  wide  fields 
all  over  the  land  !  Think  of  the  clover,  white  and  red,  springing  up  amid  the 
grass  !  Remember  how  sweet  and  fragrant  is  the  breath  of  new -mown  hay,  and 
let  your  mind  flit  for  a  moment  over  the  immensity  of  this  provision  of  God's  love. 
By  no  possibilit}'  can  one  count  the  spires  in  a  single  small  grass  plot,  and  it  is  as 
if  one  would  try  to  measure  the  sand  by  the  sea,  or  to  estimate  the  number  of 
stars,  when  one  stops  to  think  of  the  multitudinous  little  spears  of  green  grass 
rising  up  all  over  the  land  every  summer  through. 

Of  all  this  great  provision  perhaps  you  and  I  have  just  one  little  bit  which 
we  can  call  our  own.  That  we  may  make  as  beautiful  as  we  please.  It  may  be 
ragged  and  stumpy  looking,  or  it  may  be  soft  and  fine,  and  what  it  is  will  depend 
on  our  care.  Somebody'  looking  at  the  velvet  turf  at  Oxford  in  England  said, 
' '  How  do  you  account  for  its  beauty  and  its  greenness  ?  "  "  Oh, ' '  was  the  answer, 
"  it  has  had  a  thousand  3'ears  of  sunshine  and  of  rain,  a  thousand  years  of  culti- 
v^ation.     There  are  a  thousand  springs  and  summers  in  that  green  sod," 

Of  flov.'ers  which  are  beautiful  in  a  door-yard,  nothing,  to  my  mind,  excels 
the  little  pansies,  which  grow  all  the  more  lavishly  for  being  picked;  which, 

(86) 


THE   DOOR-YARD. 


87 


indeed,  will  not  thrive  and  give  you  generous  bloom  unless  you  gather  them  often, 
and  which  with  their  dear  little  faces  always  seem  to  be  saying,  ' '  This  is  a  happy 
world  and  we  are  glad  to  be  in  it."  Then  there  are  four-o' clocks,  and  lady 
slippers,  and  geraniums,  and  fuchias,  and  ribbon  grass,  and  carnations,  white  and 
pink,  and  hollyhocks,  and  larkspur,  and  love-lies-bleeding,  and  prince's  feather, 
and  the  many  varieties  of  roses;  the  beautiful  heliotrope,  lavender  and  sw^eet 
william,   and  ever  so  many  more  dear   old-fashioned  flowers  which  bloom  the 


APPI,E   BI,OSSOMS. 

summer  through.     Early  in  the  spring  one  maj'  have  snowdrop,  and  crocus,  and 
jonquil,  and  lilac. 

If  you  have  a  tree  of  two,  you  may  have  apple  blossoms  and  pear  and  peach 
"blossoms  to  make  the  world  the  brighter  and  attract  the  bees,  but  if  you  have  no 
trees  in  your  door-yard,  you  may  still  have  morning  glories  running  up  against 
the  house  and  garlanding  the  fence,  and  making  you  cheerful  the  summer  through. 
Then  in  the  autumn  come  chrysanthemums  and  salvia,,  and  all  the  bright  and 
gorgeous  procession  which  bloom  defiantly  up  to  the  very  hour  when  the  frost 
comes  along  and  winter  drops  his  white  coverlet  over  the  land. 


(88) 


1 1  have  a  tree  or  two  you  may  have  apple  blossoms." 


THE   DOOR-YARD. 


89 


Do  not  think   that  you  can  have  flowers,  either  in  the  door-yard  or  in  the 
house,  without  giving  them  some  intelligent  care.     Flowers  need  attention  just  as 
children    do.     You 
will  have  to  see  that 
they  have  the  right 
kind   of   soil,    that 
at  certain  times  tht 
soil  is  enrich  ed, 
that    weeds — those 
foes  to    flower   life 
— are    kept    away, 
that  the  flowers  are 
picked  and  brought 
in  to  ornament  the  bouse, 
that  in  due  time  the  seeds 
are  taken   care  of  and  the 
bulbs  put  in  the  ground. 

Once  having  started  a 
garden,  you  will  have  to 
give  it  onl\-  a  little  extra  care  year 
by  3'ear.  The  garden  will  go  on 
growing  and  blooming  and  mak- 
ing you  glad.  What  pleasure  it 
is  to  have  a  few  flowers  of  your 
own  rai.sing  to  put  on  the  break- 
fast table  !  a  flower  for  the  father's 
buttonhole,  a  posy  for  the  chil- 
dren to  carry  to  school,  and,  above 
all  things,  flowers  to  send  to  peo- 
ple who  are  ill  or  in  trouble. 

One  can  always  show  love 
and  sympathy  by  sending  flow- 
ers, for  somehow  they  .speak  with 
a  certain  affection  of  their  own 
and  carr}-  messages  which  we 
could  not  put  into  words  our- 
selves.    As  Mrs.  Whitney  has  remarked  in  one  of  her  sweetest  little  poems: 


"  Flower-s  which  are  beautiful  in  a  door-vard.' 


"  God  does  not  send  us  strange  flowers  every  year. 
When  the  spring  winds  blow  o'er  the  pleasant  places, 
The  same  dear  things  lift  up  the  same  old  faces." 


90  THE   DOOR-YARD. 

And  Mary  Howitt,  speaking  in  the  same  way,  said: 

"  God  might  have  made  the  earth  bring  forth 
Enough  for  great  and  small, 
The  oak  tree  and  the  cedar  tree. 
And  not  a  flower  at  all." 

But  that  was  not  God's  way  of  doing,  and  He  sent  us  beside  the  oak  and  the  elm, 
the  loveliness  of  many  a  wild  flower  that  lifts  its  fair  face  in  sheltered  places  where 
no  eye  but  God's  own  ever  sees  it. 

Some  of  my  friends  have  had  great  success  in  making  little  woodse}^  gardens 
in  their  door-yards,  carefully  bringing  from  the  forests  the  little  flowers  which  bloom 
there,  and  giving  them  something  of  the  soil  and  nurture  to  which  they  are  used. 
Still  I  alwaj'S  feel  a  trifle  sorry  for  these  little  denizens  of  the  groves  when  they 
are  brought  away  from  their  own  habitat  and  put  into  our  gardens;  it  seems  as  if 
we  are  in  a  way  stealing  them  and  doing  violence  to  what  they  would  best  like. 

One  should  always  have  at  hand  in  the  house  a  book  about  flowers,  such  as 
Mrs.  Caroline  A.  Creevey's  "  Flowers  of  Field,  Hill  and  Swamp,"  or  Mrs.  Dana's 
"  How  to  Know  the  Wild  Flowers."  Even  if  one  is  not  much  of  a  botanist,  there 
is  ver}'  great  pleasure  in  studying  the  looks  and  ways  of  flowers,  in  knowing  to  what 
class  they  belong,  and  in,  so  to  speak,  making  their  intimate  acquaintance. 

The  door-yard  should  be  an  attractive  place,  and  one  which  gives  a  pleasant 
look  not  only  to  3'our  own  house,  but  to  the  street  on  which  you  live.  In  many 
villages  people  are  now  doing  away  with  dividing  fences  between  their  homes,  so 
that  each  door-yard  which  is  well  kept  really  helps  the  housekeeping  of  the  town, 
and  as  one  walks  through  street  after  street  and  avenue  after  avenue,  one  has  the 
sensation  of  passing  through  a  lovely  park  in  which  homes  are  dotted  about. 
But  we  do  not  all  have  that  feeling.  In  some  old-fashioned  Southern  towns  people 
even  have  high  brick  walls  around  their  gardens,  and  once  inside  you  enter  a 
wilderness  of  bloom  and  beauty,  but  from  the  street  there  is  nothing  but  a  forbid- 
ding line  of  wall,  which  does  not  add  to  the  beauty  of  the  town. 

Our  houses  and  door-yards  should  in  a  way  help  along  the  place  in  which  we 
live  and  add  to  its  general  attractiveness.  If,  however,  we  have  no  room  for  even 
so  much  as  a  flower  outside,  we  may  add  to  the  beauty  of  the  street  by  always 
seeing  to  it  that  we  have  window  boxes  filled  with  green  things  growing,  or  with 
lovely  blooming  plants,  and  these  will  also  rest  the  eye  of  the  passer-by,  and 
convert  our  homes  from  dreariness  into  beauty. 

Then  one  should  take  pains  that  all  the  outside  of  the  house,  so  far  as  she  is 
responsible  for  it,  is  perfectly  clean,  neat  and  shining — door-steps,  windows,  every- 
thing which  turns  a  front  to  the  general  public  should  be  made  as  attractive  as 
possible;  and  there  is  really  great  decoration  in  simple  cleanliness. 


THE   DOOR-YARD. 

'  Here  she  is  again,  the  dear, 
Sweetest  vestal  of  the  year, 
In  her  little  purple  hood 
Brightening  the  lonesome  wood. 
Wc  who,  something  worn  with  care, 
Take  the  road,  find  unaware 
Joy  that  heartens,  hope  that  thrills, 
Love  our  cup  of  life  that  fills, 
Since  in  Spring's  remembered  nooks, 
Lifting  fair  familiar  looks. 
Once  again  with  curtsying  grace. 
In  the  same  dear  lowly  place 
God  His  manual  sign  hath  set 
In  the  tender  violet." 


91 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Kitchen. 

fT  should  be  the  airiest,  brightest  and  most  inviting  room  in  the  whole 
house.  Here  the  meals  are  prepared;  here  the  laundry  work  goes 
on;  here,  if  there  be  no  serv'ant,  the  mother  has  her  own  domain, 
and  spends  most  of  her  time.  Wherever  else  there  is  getting  along 
by  makeshifts  in  the  kitchen  let  the  provision  for  convenience  be 
ample.  A  good  range  with  a  good  draught,  plentj-  of  pots  and 
pans,  spiders,  spoons,  cups  and  dishes  and  bowls,  will  greatly  add 
to  the  ease  of  doing  the  work.  The  sink  should  be  provided  with  a  large  drain 
pipe.  If  the  water  has  been  brought  into  the  house,  the  difficulty  of  preparing 
food  will  be  lessened,  and  work  will  be  accomplished  with  less  labor  than  when 
water  must  be  carried  in  buckets  full  from  a  spring  or  well  outside.  Then  the 
careful  housekeeper  will  see  that  her  stove  or  range  is  always  bright,  that  it  is 
cleaned  every  morning,  and  the  ashes  removed  before  the  new  fire  is  made,  and 
she  will  always  keep  a  quantity  of  hot  water  in  the  kettle. 

Says  Christine  Terhune  Herrick,  spe  aking  of  the  kitchen  closet: 
' '  The  least  used  articles  should  occupy  the  upper  shelves.  Tin  pails  and 
pans,  bowls  and  cups,  should  be  turned  upside  down  when  not  in  use,  to  prevent 
the  accumulation  of  dust.  Heavy  kettles  and  saucepans,  broilers  and  fr\nng- 
pans,  should  be  in  a  pot  closet  by  themselves.  Ever\'thing  that  can  be  hung  up 
should  have  its  own  particular  nail.  Cake-turners,  iron  spoons,  skimmers,  graters, 
strainers,  funnels,  egg-beaters,  tin  cups  and  dippers,  should  swing  from  nails  or 
little  brass  screw-hooks  fastened  in  the  door-posts,  or  in  the  edges  of  the  shelves. 
There  should  be,  if  possible,  a  drawer,  where  should  be  kept  the  knife-box,  cork- 
screw, apple-corer,  pastry -j agger,  larding-needles,  can-opener,  skewers,  and  all' 
the  small  articles  that  are  liable  to  be  mislaid." 

The  same  admirable  writer  has  given  in  her  volume,  "  Housekeeping  Made 
Easy,"  a  full  list  of  articles  needed  by  her  who  would  have  her  kitchen  thoroughly 
supplied  with  tools  for  every  occasion.  They  are  a  formidable  array,  but  many  of 
us  can  manage  with  less,  and  it  is  interesting  to  see  what  we  may  have  if  we 
choose  to  supply  ourselves  fully: 

One  spice  box,  Two  jelly  moulds, 

One  Dover  egg-beater,  Two  small  yellow  bowls, 

(92) 


In  the  kitchen  let  the  provision  for  convenience  be  ample.' 


(93) 


94 


THE   KITCHEN. 


Six  kitchen  plates, 

Six  kitchen  cups  and  saucers, 

Two  large  stoneware  platters, 

One  griddle. 

One  perforated  skimmer. 

Two  stone  crocks, 

One  refrigerator, 

One  double  boiler, 

One  teakettle. 

One  teapot, 

One  cofFee-pot, 

Knife  and  fork  box. 

Garbage  pail. 

Scrubbing  pail, 

Scrubbing  brush, 

Broom, 

One  one-quart  saucepan,  agate-ware  or 
porcelain -lined, 

One  frying-pan. 

One  soup-kettle,  'agate-ware  or  porce- 
lain-lined, 

One  four-quart  tin  pail. 

One  two-quart  tin  pail. 

One  one-quart  tin  pail, 

One  graduated  quart  measure, 

One  half-pint  tin  cup. 

One  tin  dipper, 

One  cake-turrer, 

One  corkscrew. 

One  pastry -j agger, 

One  wash-basin. 

One  towel- roller. 

One  six-quart  seamless  milk  pan. 

One  four -quart  seamless  milk  pan. 

One  plain  pudding  mould, 

One  two-quart  pitcher, 

One  four-quart  pitcher. 

Four  yellow  mixing  bowls,  assorted 
sizes, 


One  split  spoon, 

Two  wooden  spoons, 

Two  iron  spoons, 

Six  kitchen  knives, 

Six  kitchen  forks, 

Six  teaspoons, 

Three  tablespoons. 

One  bread-knife. 

One  meat -knife, 

One  small   knife  for  peeling  potatoes, 

cutting  the  meat  from  bones,  etc. , 
One  larding-needle. 
One  soup-strainer, 
One  hair- wire  gravy -strainer. 
One  colander. 
One  wire  dishcloth^ 
One  can-opener, 
One  apple-corer. 
One  large  funnel, 
One  small  funnel. 
One  bread-box, 
One  cake-box. 
One  potato  beetle, 
One  meat  broiler, 
One  fish  broiler, 
One  toaster, 
One  vegetable  grater. 
One  nutmeg  grater. 
Dredging   boxes   for   salt,   pepper   and 

flour. 
Three  pie-plates. 
One  lemon-squeezer, 
One  floor  mop. 
One  dish  mop, 
One  bread-board, 
One  small  meat-board, 
One  rolling-pin. 
Two  sugar  buckets. 
One  meal  bucket. 


THE   KITCHEN. 


95 


"  In  the  well-regulated  house  the  sinks,  wash-bowls  and  faucets  should  receive 
attention  at  least  once  a  week.  When  practicable,  all  drain -pipes  should  be 
flushed  daily  with  hot  water,  if  possible,  but  when  that  is  out  of  the  question, 
with  an  abundance  of 
cold.  The  human  body 
parts  with  a  great  deal 
of  greasy  matter  in  the 
course  of  its  ablutions, 
and  this  is  apt  to  form  a 
deposit  on  the  lining  of 
the  waste-pipes  that  will 
in  time  clog  them  se- 
riously if  it  is  allowed 
to  remain.  An  excellent 
compound  of  potash  is 
sold  by  druggists  and 
grocers  for  the  especial 
purpose  of  cleansing 
waste-pipes.  The  same 
work  may  be  accom- 
plished nearly  as  success- 
fully by  a  strong  solution 
of  washing  soda  and  by 
household  ammonia. 
Copperas  water,  an  ex- 
cellent disinfectant, 
should  be  used  in  connection  with  these 
other  preparations. 

' '  The  marble  bowls  and  slabs  must 
receiv^e  a  hebdomadal  scrubbing,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  wiping  off  that  should  be  a 
daily  occurrence.  Pumice-stone,  sapolio, 
or  scourene  serves  here  as  upon  faucets. 
On  the  marble  it  may  be  applied  with  a 
cloth  or  a  small  stiff  brush,  but  for  the 
faucets,  stoppers,  chains  and  other  plated  finishings  the  brush  is  preferable,  as  it 
carries  the  soap  better  into  the  chinks  and  interstices.  One  such  scouring  as  this 
in  a  week  will  keep  these  platings  bright,  if  it  is  supplemented  by  a  wiping  off 
with  hot  water  and  a  rub  with  a  flannel  or  chamois-skin  each  morning. 

"  Lamps,  andirons,  fenders  and  fire-irons  demand  their  quota  of  attention,  nor 
should  doorplate,  knobs  and  hinges  be  neglected." 


IN   THE   KITCHEN. 


96 


THE   KITCHEN. 


Our  habits  of  luxury  in  town  life  and  our  relegation  of  kitchen  work  to  the 
Lired  maid,  have  robbed  us  of  much  of  the  pleasure  we  used  to  have  in  simpler 
days.  But  I  am  sure  there  are  still  sunnj'  kitchens  in  which  the  cat  purrs  bj'  the 
fire,  while  the  brisk  mistress  steps  to  and  fro,  doing  her  baking  and  ironing  her 
sweet  smelling  linen,  fragrant  with  the  purest  air  and  the  blessing  of  the  light. 
There  the  boy  studies  his  Latin  grammar  and  adds  up  his  sums,  and  the  girl  tells 
how  she  went  to  the  head  in  spelling,  and  how  the  teacher  asked  her  to  be  class 
monitor  for  the  day.  The  dear  grandfather  pottering  about  the  garden  and  the 
barn  comes  to  the  kitchen  to  rest,  and  to  smoke  his  meditative  pipe.  The  sweet 
old  grandmother  sits  in  the  pleasant  window  with  the  long  gray  sock  she  is 
knitting,  and  thebab}-  plays  on  the  floor,  or  sleeps  in  the  cradle  which  stands  in 
the  darkest  comer.  Here,  in  the  best  of  cooking-schools,  the  daughter  learns 
housewifely  management,  here  the  bone  and  sinew  of  the  land  are  nourished, 
here  our  patriotic  American  citizens  are  bred  up  to  stand  sturdily  for  God  and 
their  country-.  The  kitchen  is  the  heart  of  the  home,  and  the  mother  is  queen 
of  the  kitchen. 


CHAPTER   XII. 


The  Parlor. 

HAVE  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  the  parlor  is  the  room  for 
which  we  can  longest  wait,  and  which  we  can  most  readily  dis- 
pense with  if  necessary.  Where  a  parlor  is  simply  a  room 
reserved  for  company,  and  seldom  used,  it  may  be  the  pride  of  a 
woman's  soul,  but  it  is  not  of  much  genuine  utility.  By  com- 
mon consent  our  parlors  are  our  best  rooms,  where  we  keep  our 
richest  bric-a-brac,  our  most  beautiful  furniture  and  our  most 
prized  possessions.  But,  why  not  have  instead  of  a  stiff  seldom- 
occupied  parlor,  a  pleasant  living  room  to  which  everybody  turns 
with  freedom  and  yet  with  a  sense  of  rest;  why  not  accustom  the 
children  to  come  hither,  only  enjoining  them  not  to  romp  and  range  noisily  in 
this  room,  but  telling  them  that  fine  manners  befit  a  fine  apartment. 

Uniformity  was  once  considered  the  proper  thing  for  the  parlor.  I  remember 
when  a  marble-topped  table,  a  sofa  upholstered  in  horse-hair  with  chairs  to  match, 
a  few  family  pictures  and  some  china  vases  and  sea  shells  were  regarded  as  the 
acme  of  elegance  in  the  parlor.  Now,  the  fashion  is  for  individuality,  and  we 
prefer  a  cozy  interior  to  a  formal  one.  A  hard  wood  floor  is  liked  better  than  a 
carpeted  one  by  many  women.  Rugs  are  popular.  Books  lie  about.  Engravings 
adorn  the  walls.  Plants  stand  in  the  windows.  If  there  is  a  piano  it  invites  the 
fingers  of  the  musician;  or  there  is  a  mandolin  or  a  banjo,  and  with  either  a  hint 
of  jolly  times  at  home. 

The  parlor  is  not  shut  up  and  cold  and  stuffy.  It  is  airy,  sweet,  bright  and 
winsome.  Lively  chat  is  the  rule  here,  and  snatches  of  song,  and  invariable 
good  temper.     It  is  a  room  to  enjoy  but  as  it  is  a  luxury  it  may  be  waited  for. 


(97) 


CHAPTER  XIII« 
Order  and  System. 

'VERY  sensible  person  knows  that  the  affairs  of  life  are  carrie..  on  to 
much  better  advantage  when  they  are  managed  with  a  certain 
regard  to  routine  than  when  the  duties  of  the  day  are  left  to  accident. 
Especially  in  the  beginning  of  housekeeping  it  is  a  good  plan  to 
regulate  the  various  dates  according  to  system:  to  have  certain  days 
for  certain  work,  and  as  a  rule  not  to  vary  very  much  in  the  schedule 
laid  down.  Monday,  by  time-honored  custom,  is  in  most  families 
devoted  to  washing.  If  the  housekeeper  rises  early,  and  has  taken  the 
precaution  to  sort  her  clothes  the  night  before,  putting  those  which  are  most  soiled 
into  water  to  soak,  keeping  the  fine  and  the  coarse  things  apart,  and  taking  this 
hardest  labor  of  the  house  with  a  cheerful  spirit,  she  will  find  it  a  good  thing  out 
of  the  way  when  Monday's  sun  goes  down. 

Tuesday  again  is  ironing  day.  "Wednesday  may  be  taken  for  mending  and 
putting  in  needful  stitches  before  laying  away  the  freshly  laundered  clothes, 
Thursday  and  Friday  divide  between  them  washing  windows  and  sweeping  and 
general  cleaning,  while  Saturday  is  by  common  consent  appropriated  to  baking, 
enough  in  the  way  of  bread,  pies  and  cakes  being  easily  prepared  then  for  the 
wants  of  an  ordinary  household.  If  one  must  bake  twice  a  week,  Wednesday  is 
the  better  day  for  the  second  campaign  of  this  kind. 

Then,  too,  in  all  well-regulated  households  the  hours  for  meals  are  a  matter 
of  arrangement.  Necessarily  these  are  regulated  by  the  business  of  the  man  of 
the  house,  by  the  custom  of  the  place  where  one  lives,  and  also  with  some  regard 
to  the  convenience  of  children  going  to  school.  An  early  breakfast  is  a  necessity 
in  many  households.  Unless  the  family  rise  soon  after  dawn  in  winter  and  about 
six  o'clock  in  summer,  they  cannot  sit  down  comfortably  to  a  half-past  six  or 
seven  o'clock  breakfast,  which  is  a  needs-be  in  many  cases. 

A  good  deal  of  the  breakfast  can  be  arranged  for  the  night  before  where  one 
does  her  own  work.  Oatmeal,  for  instance,  is  the  better  for  being  soaked  over 
night  in  water,  unless  the  housekeeper  prefers  to  put  it  on  in  the  afternoon  and 
allow  it  to  simmer  slowly  for  a  long  time  on  the  back  of  her  range,  in  which  case 
it  is  very  nearl}'  cooked  and  has  only  to  be  warmed  over  in  the  morning.  All 
cereals  are  the  better  for  very  thorough  cooking.     It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose, 

(98) 


^>^^rs>\0:^ 


"  Needful  stitches. 


(99) 


loo  ORDER   AND   SYSTEM. 

whatever  the  labels  on  the  packages  may  tell  you,  that  either  wheat  or  oatmeal 
or  Indian  meal  may  be  cooked  to  advantage  in  a  few  minutes.  They  all  need  a 
rather  slow  and  leisurely  cooking  to  bring  out  their  best  qualities.  Coffee  may 
be  ground  and  placed  ready  for  the  morning;  potato  cakes  may  be  made  and  set 
aside;  and  eggs  in  any  form  are  quickly  cooked.  If  there  is  to  be  a  ha.sh  for 
breakfast  it  is  always  best  to  prepare  it  the  night  before. 

So  much  of  a  man's  comfort  and  health  depends  on  his  having  a  good  start 
for  the  day,  that  the  wife  should  always  feel  it  incumbent  upon  her  to  have  his 
morning  meal  ready  for  him  so  that  he  need  not  be  too  much  hurried  and  obliged 
to  swallow  it  in  frantic  haste,  and  then  rush  wildly  to  his  train  or  the  place  of  his 
work  for  the  day.  On  the  other  hand,  the  man  himself,  father,  husband,  brother 
or  son,  owes  it  to  the  women  of  the  household  to  get  up  when  he  is  called,  if  not 
before. 

Where  there  are  no  domestics  kept,  and  fires  are  to  be  lighted,  it  would  seem 
that  the  man,  who  is  the  stronger,  should  rise  first  and  prepare  the  fire  so  that  it 
may  be  all  ready  for  his  wife  when  she  arrives  at  the  preparation  of  the  breakfast. 
But  whatever  he  does  or  does  not  do,  it  is  incumbent  on  every  son  of  Adam  to  get 
up  when  he  is  called  in  the  morning,  and  not  to  oblige  people  to  rap  at  his  door 
repeatedly  to  call  him  in  a  voice  that  might  awake  the  dead.  For  growing 
children  there  is  some  excuse,  and  whenever  it  is  possible  they  should  be  allowed 
to  sleep  their  sleep  out,  but  a  strong  man  need  not  shield  himself  beside  so  flimsy 
an  excuse.  It  is  quite  in  his  power  to  retire  as  early  as  he  pleases  and  take  the 
needed  sleep  before  midnight  instead  of  after  dawn. 

In  families  where  there  are  invalids,  or  where  there  is  no  occasion  for  catching 
a  train  or  going  to  business  early — where,  perhaps,  nobody-  goes  to  business  at  all 
— breakfast  may  be  as  late  as  one  chooses  or  as  may  suit  the  convenience  of  the 
family.  I  remember  a  charming  visit  paid  at  a  beautiful  home  in  the  vastness  of 
the  Berkshire  Hills.  Here  in  this  household  of  luxury,  where  there  was  no 
obligation  on  anyone  to  stir  earlier  than  he  or  she  pleased,  the  breakfast  hour  was 
most  comfortably  late  and  people  came  and  went  as  they  pleased,  the  maid  simpl}- 
bringing  in  breakfast  to  each  as  he  or  she  desired  it.  This  arrangement  is  ideal, 
but  it  is  not  possible  for  us  all.  Where  it  is  practicable  to  have  breakfast  a  move- 
able feast,  let  the  housekeeper  adjust  her  system  to  the  convenience  of  the  family, 
instead  of  compelling  the  family  to  adjust  their  convenience  to  her  system.  System 
is  to  be  our  servant,  not  our  tyrant.  We  are  very  foolish  to  put  ourselves  imder 
its  control.  It  is  simply  an  efficient  means  of  aiding  us  in  the  work  we  have 
to  do. 

In  many  parts  of  our  countr>'  amner  is  served  in  the  middle  of  the  da3%  and 
wherever  this  arrangement  can  obtain,  it  certainly  is  the  best  for  health  and 
pleasure.     In  cities,  however,  where  distances  are  great  and  men  do  not  come 


ORDER   AND   SYSTEM. 


lOI 


home  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  the  evening  meal  must  be  the  dinner  and  the  noon 
meal  must  take  the  form  of  luncheon.     This  may  very  properly  be  for  the  children 


"  Where  th( 


i\  ali(i?;. 


their  heartiest  meal,  as  it  is  not  a  good  thing  for  them  to  eat  meat  and  vegetables 
or  a  rich  dessert  just  before  going  to  bed. 


I02  ORDER   AND  SYSTEM. 

Every  woman  must  regulate  her  household  in  her  own  wa}-  so  far  as  her 
means  are  concerned;  also  so  far  as  the  order  of  her  work  is  concerned.  If  she  is 
doing  her  work  herself  everything  is  in  her  own  hands.  The  daintiest  house- 
keeping I  have  ever  seen  has  been  done  by  ladies  who  manage  in  their  own  beau- 
tiful efficient  way  to  suit  themselves.  Thej'  have  the  great  joy  of  not  having 
their  dishes  chipped  and  wantonly  broken;  their  pots  and  pans  last  longer  than 
those  of  others  who  are  dependent  upon  the  help  of  untaught  peasants  from  other 
shores;  they  do  not  find  their  towels  and  dishcloths  packed  into  holes  under  the 
sink  or  wantonly  burned — in  fact,  they  find  that  while  they  are  not  quite  so  much 
at  leisure,  they  are  far  more  at  ease  in  mind,  and  are  on  the  whole  much  more 
independent  than  women  who  have  others  to  help  them. 

Where,  however,  as  is  the  custom  largely  in  this  country,  a  maid  is  emploj-ed, 
or  at  most  two,  they  should,  so  far  as  possible,  be  made  to  feel  that  they  are  not 
mereh^  employes  but  also  rien  ds,  and  they  should  be  treated  in  such  a  way  that 
the  interests  of  the  family  become  theirs.  I  know  that  this  is  not  a  doctrine 
believed  by  every  one,  but  I  have  proved  it  to  my  own  satisfaction  that  it  is  quite 
possible  to  have  under  one's  roof  women  who  do  one's  work  and  who  feel  a  great 
degree  of  responsibility  for  the  well-being  of  the  home,  for  the  management  of 
resources,  and  for  the  comfort  of  all  concerned. 

A  lady  who  does  a  large  amount  of  literary  work  away  from  home,  and  who 
goes  to  an  editorial  office  every  morning,  leaving  her  home  at  eight  o'clock  and 
not  reaching  it  again  until  six,  said  to  me,  ' '  It  is  possible  for  me  to  do  my  work 
and  do  it  as  well  as  I  do  simply  because  I  have  had  for  years  the  services  of  two 
faithful  Irish  women  who  behave  as  well  and  are  as  trustworthy  in  my  absence  as 
in  ni}-  presence." 

We  need  to  remember  that  in  many  ways  the  ordinar>'  servant  is  not  more 
mature  than  a  child,  and  she  will  find  it  a  great  help  if  her  work  is  indicated  for 
her  in  the  order  in  which  it  should  be  done.  At  the  same  time,  the  mistress  must ' 
not  be  too  rigid  in  insisting  that  the  work  shall  always  be  done  according*  to  her 
routine  or  in  exactly  her  way.  The  thing  after  all  is  to  get  the  work  well  done, 
and  it  can  sometimes  be  managed  much  better  if  there  is  a  little  elasticity. 

For  children  system  is  invaluable.  Nothing  could  be  worse  for  a  small  boy 
or  girl  than  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  school  or  stay  at  home  according  to  the  childish 
pleasure,  to  play  all  day  when  lessons  should  be  learned,  or  to  feel  no  sense  of 
responsibility  in  the  house.  Every  little  child  and  every  older  one  should  have 
some  little  task  or  duty  which  belongs  to  him  or  to  her,  and  for  which  father  and 
mother  hold  the  child  responsible.  Country  children  have  a  great  advantage  over 
city  children  in  this  respect,  because  in  the  country  there  are  more  simple  tasks 
about  the  house,  garden  and  fields  than  there  are  in  our  town  houses.  Perhaps 
that  is  one  reason  why  our  greatest  men  and  women    so  often  come  from  the 


HELPING  GRANNY. 


(103) 


I04  ORDER  AND   SYSTEM. 

country,  with  its  peace  and  seclusion,  its  chance  for  individual  homes  and  for 
natural  development,  than  from  the  crowded  streets  of  our  great  towns. 

A  fad  of  the  moment  is  what  is  called  the  Don't  Worry  Club,  and  we  find 
many  fashionable  women,  as  well  as  many  plainer  ones,  enlisting  themselves  in 
these  circles  who  take  for  their  motto  "  Don't  Worry."  But  long  before  the  days 
of  clubs,  and  long  before  the  present  thought  of  repose  and  serenity  as  factors  in 
home  life,  we  were  told  by  one  who  spoke  with  infinite  wisdom  that  "  suflBcient 
unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.  Take  no  thought  for  the  morrow,  for  the  morrow 
shall  take  thought  for  the  things  of  itself. ' ' 

The  wise  housekeeper  needs  to  avoid  two  foes  of  health,  happiness  and 
beauty:  the  name  of  one  is  Hurry,  and  the  name  of  its  twin  brother  is  Worry. 
Nobody  can  be  contented  who  is  in  a  state  of  rush  and  tug  and  whirl;  nobody 
can  be  at  peace  who  is  distressed  lest  things  will  not  come  out  as  they  should.  We 
must  neither  hurry  nor  worry  if  we  wish  to  retain  our  good  looks,  but  go  cheer- 
fully and  gladly  on  our  way  through  life.  Worry  writes  wrinkles  on  a  woman's 
face  and  furrows  deep  ruts  in  her  mind,  and  after  all  what  good  does  it  do  ?  Wt 
often  find  that  the  very  thing  about  which  we  have  worried  most  turns  cut  quite 
well,  and  that  we  might  have  spared  ourselves  all  needless  anxiety. 

In  that  good  old  book  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  there  is  a  stor>'  of  the  pilgrim 
walking  along  and  afraid  to  enter  a  beautiful  house  because  he  saw  on  each  side 
of  it  a  ferocious  lion  standing  on  guard.  When  at  last,  however,  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  walk  up  to  the  house  he  found  them  perfectly  peaceful  and  quiet,  and 
when  they  saw  his  approach  they  paid  no  attention  to  him.  So  when  Daniel„ 
God's  servant  of  old,  was  thrown  down  into  the  den  of  lions,  God  sent  His  angel 
to  keep  them  from  harming  him.  We  must  sometimes  in  this  world  be  like  Daniel, 
thrown  down  among  raging  lions  of  trouble,  care  and  sin;  perhaps  temptation 
will  assail  us;  perhaps  there  will  be  trial  which  it  is  beyond  our  power  to  meet. 
But  do  not  let  us  be  afraid;  God  can  always  send  His  angel  in  the  hour  of  out 
need. 

When  you  think  of  it,  friend,  the  worries. 

The  troubles  that  wear  you  out. 
Are  often  the  veriest  trifles, 

That  common  sense  would  flout; 
They  write  the  forehead  with  wrinkles. 

They  bow  the  shoulders  with  care. 
Yet  a  little  patience  would  show  you,  friend. 

Just  how  the  weight  to  bear. 


"  Every  child  should  have  some  little  task." 


(105) 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
Ourselves  and  Our  Neighbors. 

iERHAPS  we  might  call  it  an  American  peculiaritj' to  care  a  great  deal 
about  what  our  neighbors  think  of  us.     More  than  any  other  people 
in  the  world  we  are  influenced  in  our  style  of  living  b}'  the  style 
which  obtains  around  us.     People  are  disturbed  if  their  shades  and 
curtains,  their  carpets  and  furniture,  are  less  elegant  than  those  of 
others  residing  in  the  same  vicinit}^  and  often  the  householder  is 
tempted  to  extravagance  in  these  directions  simply  that  she  may  put  the 
best  foot  forward  and  appear  to  as  much  advantage  as  the  resident  across 
the  street  or  next  door,  whose  income  may  be  double  or  treble  her  own. 

When  we  think  of  it,  this  entails  an  amount  of  needless  anxiety  and  a 
stretching  after  effect  which  is  very  indiscreet,  and  which  does  more  than  any 
other  thing  to  rob  us  of  the  joy  and  peace  of  life.  So  far  as  the  mere  environ- 
ment is  concerned,  the  furniture,  the  richness  or  the  plainness  of  our  homes,  we 
should  preserve  an  entirely  independent  attitude.  Nobody  should  fear  to  be  con- 
sidered singular.  Each  person  has  a  right  to  spend  or  to  save  as  seems  best  to 
himself,  and  it  is  both  weak  and  silly  to  attempt  more  than  our  income  warrants. 
No  one  cares  any  more  for  you  because  j'^ou  live  in  a  beautiful  house  or  in  a  small 
cottage.  The  friends  who  really  love  you,  and  whose  friendship  is  worth  having, 
will  go  to  see  j^ou  if  your  home  be  in  an  obscure  neighborhood  just  as  eagerly  as 
they  would  if  you  lived  on  a  splendid  avenue. 

Often,  too,  people  lose  more  than  thej'  gain  by  putting  on  a  stj^e  which  does 
not  belong  to  them.  For  instance,  a  man  starting  out  in  life  sometimes  loses 
opportunities  because  older  and  more  sagacious  people,  observing  the  manner  of 
his  life,  say  "  A  or  B  is  going  beyond  his  means;  he  cannot  keep  up  at  that  pace; 
we  do  not  want  in  our  employ  a  man  who  is  living  at  such  a  rate."  I  have 
known  instances  in  which  a  man's  whole  future  was  injured  because  his  wife  or 
his  children,  or  his  general  style  of  living,  challenged  a  degree  of  fashion  which 
in  his  case  was  very  unfortunate.  Mr.  Micawber's  famous  remark  that  "  if  your 
income  is  twenty  pounds,  nineteen  pounds,  nineteen  shillings  and  six  pence  spent 
means  bliss,  while  twenty-one  shillings  means  poverty, "  remains  true  to  this  day. 
We  must  never  let  our  neighbors  unduly  influence  us  as  to  what  we  spend.  On 
the  other  hand  we  need  not  be,  as  people  too  often  are  in  our  cities,  wholly 
unaware  that  we  have  neighbors  at  all. 

(io6) 


OURSELVES   AND   OUR   NEIGHBORS. 


107 


The  decline  of  neighborliness  is  one  of  the  sad  features  of  city  life.  One 
may  even  live  in  the  same  house  with  others  and  know  nothing  of  sickness  or  death 
which   has  occurred  to  the  other  family;  and  it  is  not  infrequent  for  us  to  find 


that  some  one  who  lived  a  few 
blocks  off,  and  whom  we  oc- 
casionally have  met  but  meet 
no  longer,  has  passed  away. 
In  village  life  this  can  never 
happen.  Each  household 
knows  every  other.  A  smaller 
town  or  a  village  is  decidedly 
the  better  place  for  a  home  on 
this  very  account,  that  it 
somehow  is  like  a  great  family, 
where  everybody  knows  some- 
thing about  and  cares  something  about  everybody  else.  Here  in  the  smaller  town 
if  a  maiden  is  to  be  married  every  one  is  interested.  During  the  days  of  her 
engagement  people  regard  her  with  friendly  eyes,  and  when  the  bridal  day  comes 
the  whole  place    is  stirred    up   to   do   her   honor    and    the  village   assumes  the 


father's  UTXi...   DAUGHTER. 


io8  OURSEI.VES   AND   OUR  NEIGHBORS. 

air  of  a  fete.  If  there  is  illness  in  any  home  all  homes  feel  it,  and  friendly- 
offers  and  kind  hands  are  extended  to  help  those  who  are  in  need  of  assist- 
ance. If  a  lad  gains  a  prize  at  the  High  School  all  his  neighbors  are  pleased, 
and  they  congratulate  his  father  as  he  goes  to  business,  or  stop  and  speak  to 
the  boy  himself  with  pride  because  he  has  brought  honor  not  only  on  himself 
but  on  the  whole  place.  When  a  girl  goes  awaj'  to  college  all  the  other  girls 
and  the  other  girls'  mothers  feel  an  interest,  and  her  first  letter  home  is  discussed 
in  more  houses  than  her  own.  Just  so  if  one  family  have  a  windfall  of  fortune, 
the  cordial  good  wishes  of  all  their  neighbors  add  to  their  pleasure.  And  if  dis- 
aster and  misfortune  are  the  portion  of  any,  every  one  shares  in  sorrow  that  the 
calamity  has  come.  Blessed  is  the  sweetness  of  this  neighborly  contact,  and  true 
indeed  is  the  word  that  was  said  of  old,  that  ' '  Better  is  a  neighbor  that  is  near 
than  a  brother  that  is  far  off." 

Among  little  neighborly  offices  nothing  ever  seems  to  me  more  beautiful 
and  significant  than  the  simple  passing  of  a  covered  dish  from  one  house  to 
another.  Shall  I  ever  forget  my  home  just  after  the  war  in  a  lovely  Southern 
town,  where  often  in  the  morning  as  I  sat  down  to  my  breakfast  table  a  friend 
living  on  one  hand  or  the  other  would  send  me  in  a  plate  of  hot  waffles,  or  of 
biscuits  breaking  like  snowy  puffs  under  their  brown  covers,  or  perhaps  a  saucer 
of  golden  honey,  or  some  other  pleasant  reminder  that  I  was  thought  of  in  a 
loving  way  by  the  housekeeper  who  lived  next  me. 

This  sweet  neighborliness  was  recalled  to  my  mind  when  on  a  recent  visit  to 
Tennessee  I  found  everywhere  the  same  loving  thought  and  kind  attention.  At 
the  house  in  which  I  was  staying  there  occurred  suddenly  a  death,  and  instantly 
three  or  four  charming  women  whom  I  knew  but  slightly,  having  met  them  for 
the  first  time  but  a  few  days  before,  came  to  invite  me  to  be  their  guest  and  stay 
under  their  roof  with  them.  They  filled  my  life  while  with  them  with  sweet  and 
friendly  offices,  and  when  at  last  I  left,  the  parting  guest  was  speeded  on  her  way 
with  loving  words  and  kind  attentions,  and  the  very  last  thing  that  was  done  was 
to  give  me  a  beautiful  box  of  such  a  lunch  as  one  seldom  sees,  to  be  taken  on  the 
train.  Here  were  sandwiches  and  beaten  biscuit  and  fried  chicken  and  beautiful 
cake  and  salted  almonds,  all  put  up  in  the  most  dainty  way  for  the  traveler's 
comfort — and  this  for  one  who  had  been  a  few  days  before  an  entire  stranger.  Do 
you  wonder  that  I  remember  and  always  shall  recall  with  the  greatest  affection 
these  angels  unawares,  who  have  made  me  understand  again  that  in  the  South  at 
least  the  old  sweet  neighborliness  has  not  been  forgotten  ? 

Equally,  visiting  last  summer  in  a  family  of  New  England,  I  found  there  the 
spirit  of  good  neighborhood  just  as  ready  to  brood  with  tender  kindness  over  the 
wayfarer,  and  the  loveliness  of  the  sweet  word  and  the  kind  act  and  the  sponta- 
neity of  goodness  shown  in  just  the  same  friendly  way.     Alas  for  us  that  this 


If  a  maiden  is  to  be  married." 


(109) 


I  lo  OURSELVES  AND  OUR   NEIGHBORS. 

spirit  seems  to  have  shaken  the  dust  of  her  feet  from  our  great  and  bustling 
towns. 

"  Did  you  ever  think  how  ever}'  part  of  3'our  house  can  remind  3'ou  of  the 
great  truths  which  Jesus   Christ   taught   about  Himself?     The   corner-stone  or 


HER  FIRST  LETTER  HOME.     . 

foundation,  saj'S,  '  Christ  is  the  corner-stone;'  the  door,  '  I  am  the  door;'  the 
burning  light,  '  Christ  is  the  light  of  the  world.'  You  look  out  of  the  window, 
and  the  sight  of  the  starry  sky  bids  you  turn  your  eyes  to  '  the  bright  and  morn- 
ing star. '     The  rising  sun  speaks  of  the  '  Sun  of  righteousness,  with  healing  in  His 


OURSELVES   AND   OUR   NEIGHBORS.  iir 

wings.'  The  loaf  on  your  table  whispers  '  I  am  the  bread  of  life,'  and  the  water 
which  quenches  your  thirst,  '  I  am  the  water  of  life.'  When  you  lie  down,  you 
think  of  Jesus  who  had  not  where  to  lay  His  head,  and  when  you  get  up  you 
rejoice  that  Jesus  is  '  the  life.'  " 


Wisely  and  pithily  says  John  Ruskin: 

' '  Now  the  man's  work  for  his  own  house  is,  as  has  been  said,  to  secure  its  main- 
tenance, progress  and  defence;  the  woman's  to  secure  its  order,  comfort  and 
loveliness. 

"  Expand  both  these  functions.  The  man's  duty,  as  a  member  of  a  common- 
wealth, is  to  assist  in  the  maintenance,  in  the  advance,  in  the  defence  of  the  state. 
The  woman's  duty,  as  a  member  of  the  commonwealth,  is  to  assist  in  the  ordering, 
in  the  comforting,  and  in  the  beautiful  adornment  of  the  state. 

"  What  the  man  is  at  his  own  gate,  defending  it,  if  need  be,  against  insult  and 
spoil,  that  also,  not  in  a  less,  but  in  a  more  devoted  measure,  he  is  to  be  at  the  gate 
of  his  country,  leaving  his  home,  if  need  be,  even  to  the  spoiler,  to  do  his  more 
incumbent  work  there. 

"  And,  in  like  manner,  what  the  woman  is  to  be  within  her  gates,  as  the  centre 
of  order,  the  balm  of  distress,  and  the  mirror  of  beaut j';  that  she  is  also  to  be 
without  her  gates,  where  order  is  more  difficult,  distress  more  imminent,  loveliness 
more  rare. 

' '  And  as  within  the  human  heart  there  is  always  set  an  instinct  for  all  its  real 
duties — an  instinct  which  \'ou  cannot  quench,  but  only  warp  and  corrupt  if  you 
withdraw  it  from  its  true  purpose; — as  there  is  the  intense  instinct  of  love,  which, 
rightly  disciplined,  maintains  all  the  sanctities  of  life  and,  misdirected,  undermines 
them;  and  must  do  either  the  one  or  the  other;  so  there  is  in  the  human  heart  an 
inextinguishable  instinct,  the  love  of  power,  which,  rightly  directed,  maintains  all 
the  majesty  of  law  and  life,  and  misdirected,  wrecks  them." 


CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Management  of  Money. 

OUGHLY  speaking,  in  most  households  the  husband  is  the  provider  or 
bread-winner,  and  the  wife  is  the  administrator  of  the  income.     A 
great  deal  of  unhappiness,  however,  is  caused  and  much  unne- 
cessary friction  by  a  lack  of  proper  management  of  the  family 
resources.     Is  the  wife  a  licensed  beggar  or  a  business  partner  ? 
On  the  answer  to  this  question  depends  more  of  married  felicity  or  of 
^'    conjugal  misery  than  the  unthinking  can  ever  know. 

Most  wives  dislike  unspeakably  to  ask  their  husbands  for  money,  and  man}-^ 
otherwise  excellent  husbands  make  their  wives  perfectly  miserable  bj'  the  churlish 
or  disagreeable  way  in  which  they  dole  out  necessary  funds  for  the  maintenance  of 
the  family  life.  It  would  be  well  in  the  very  beginning  for  people  to  arrive  at 
some  conclusion  as  to  this  important  matter  of  domestic  finance.  Where  the  man 
Jias  a  salary,  or  brings  home  every  week  a  certain  stipend  in  the  way  of  wages, 
it  is  quite  easy  for  him  to  know  how  much  he  can  afford  to  spend  for  house  rent, 
for  pew  rent,  for  fuel,  for  his  own  and  his  wife's  clothes,  for  table  expenses,  for 
traveling  expenses  and  for  the  necessary  items  which  come  into  the  affairs  of  ever3' 
day.  He  maj'  sit  down  with  his  wife  and  they  may  together  amiably  apportion 
the  various  parts  of  the  income  intelligently,  leaving  a  margin  free  for  doctor's 
bills  and  for  any  sudden  emergency  which  may  occur.  If  thej-  cut  their  coat 
according  to  their  cloth,  they  will  have  great  peace  of  mind  and  much  comfort; 
and,  just  here,  if  the  husband  will  give  the  wife  a  certain  allowance  for  her  per- 
sonal expenses,  so  that  she  will  not  be  obliged  to  go  to  him  when  she  wishes  to 
pay  a  visit ;  when  she  wishes  to  make  a  little  contribution  to  a  charity ;  when  she 
wishes  to  buy  herself  a  pair  of  gloves,  he  will  find,  and  she  will  find,  that  their 
mutual  happiness  will  be  greatly  increased.  The  lack  of  money  wears  out  many 
an  apparently  well-to-do  wife. 

Most  men  have  a  notion  that  women  are  not  to  be  trusted  with  money.  They 
are  willing  to  trust  their  wives  with  everything  else;  with  things  which  you  would 
consider  more  important  than  money — their  good  name;  the  reputation  of  the 
family;  the  care  of  the  children — in  fact,  with  everything  which  has  to  do  with 
the  actualities  of  life,  and  yet  they  say,  "My  wife,  dear  child,  does  not  know 
how  to  manage  money."  How  is  she  ever  to  learn  unless  it  is  given  her  to  care 
for?     Are  you  going  to  keep  her  a  child  till  her  hair  is  gray? 

(112) 


THE   MANAGEMENT  OF   MONEY.  113 

There  is  often  peculiar  hardship  iu  this  aspect  of  the  case  when  a  wife  has  dur- 
ing her  spinsterhood  had  an  income  of  her  own.  As  a  young  lady,  she  perhaps 
taught,  and  had  her  quarterly  salary,  which  was  absolutely  her  own  to  use  as  she 
pleased,  or  she  was  a  clerk  and  brought  home  her  weekly  wages,  or  as  a  stenog- 
rapher, or  in  some  other  position  of  responsibility  she  earned  a  fair  living.  When 
it  comes  to  having  no  money  at  all  except  what  John  chooses  to  give  her;  when  she 
has  to  ask  this  same  good  John  for  five  cents  to  ride  in  the  cars,  or  for  the  price  of 
a  pair  of  shoes,  or  a  new  gown,  or  a  feather  for  her  hat;  when  she  cannot  put  her 
name  down  as  a  subscriber  to  a  periodical  or  give  a  dollar  to  the  missionaries,  or 
-do  anything  else  she  is  inclined  to  without  first  consulting  him,  life  becomes  very 
bitter  and  the  taste  of  married  happiness  is  not  so  sweet  as  it  well  might  be.  This 
is  most  unfortunate,  because  if  husbands  could  see  it  in  the  right  way,  they  would 
be  only  too  glad  to  try  the  business  arrangement,  and  they  would  find  in  most 
cases  that  their  wives,  far  from  taking  advantage  of  their  justice — not  their  gen- 
erosity— would  prove  themselves  admirable  financiers. 

A  woman's  self-respect  and  her  ability  to  take  a  fair  view  of  matters  is  greatly 
increased  if  she  is  treated  as  an  equal  by  her  husband;  and  certainly  the  money 
which  comes  into  the  home  is  the  joint  property  of  both.  The  wife,  though  her 
duties  are  indoors,  does  as  much  toward  the  saving  of  the  income  and  toward  the 
presenting  of  the  family  in  a  right  light  to  the  world,  as  her  husband  can  possibly 
do  in  his  business. 

There  are  instances,  it  must  be  conceded,  and  not  a  few,  where  it  is  by  no 
means  plain  sailing  to  thus  manage:  as  when  a  man  has  no  certain  fixed  income 
and  cannot  always  tell  how  he  is  coming  out  at  the  end  of  the  year.  It  will  be 
necessary  for  him  to  watch  very  closely,  indeed,  the  relative  obligations  of  income 
and  outgo ;  but  the  true  wife  is  willing  to  share  his  anxieties  and  does  not  wish  to 
increase  his  burdens.  Often  the  man  makes  the  great  mistake  of  not  letting  his 
wife  know  just  how  he  is  situated  and  so  she  incurs  expenses  which  she  would 
scorn  to  do  if  she  were  treated  fairly. 

People  living  on  farms  and  not  needing  to  handle  very  much  money  often  find 
a  different  arrangement  necessary  and  convenient  from  that  which  prevails  in 
town  life;  but  there  is  a  great  unfairness  in  that  sort  of  management  which 
enables  the  husband  to  hire  all  the  help  he  wants  in  the  fields,  and  to  hold  the 
purse  strings  very  tightly,  while  the  wife  toils  faithfully  year  after  year  and  never 
has  a  cent  to  call  her  own.  Always  for  him  the  pocket-book,  for  her  the  empty 
purse.     It  is  not  fair. 

About  the  whole   question    of  domestic   finance    there   should   be  perfect 

confidence  and  a  sensible  division  of  the  money  in  hand,  with  always  a  prudent 

forethought  for  the  rainy  day.     It  is  unwise  to  live  up  to  the  full  extent  of  one's 

income.     There  will  always  be  breakers  ahead  for  people  who  do  this.     As  soon 

8 


114  THE   MANAGEMENT   OF   MONEY. 

as  possible,  one  should  begin  to  lay  up  something  for  the  daj-  of  sickness;  the  day 
when  the  education  of  children  will  call  for  greater  outlay;  the  day  of  old  age. 
To  live  without  thrift  and  with  great  improvidence  is  a  sin  as  well  as  a  blunder. 
If  possible  a  man  should  have  a  life  insurance,  the  premium  of  which  should  be 
punctually  paid,  as  any  deficiency  in  this  will  invalidate  all  that  has  gone  before. 
To  keep  up  the  premium  may  sometimes  mean  a  good  deal  of  self-denial  for  all 
concerned;  still,  it  should  always  be  done,  for  if  in  the  changes  and  chances  of 
this  world,  the  bread-winner  be  taken  away,  he  will  be  happier  to  know  that  he  is 
leaving  his  wife  not  unprovided  for  in  a  cold  and  stormy  world. 

People  are  of  different  minds  as  to  what  proportion  of  their  income  should  be 
given  to  the  service  of  God.  In  the  old  Hebrew  economy  the  tenth  at  least  was 
always  laid  on  the  altar  of  Jehovah.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  Christian  would 
desire  to  appropriate  a  share  of  what  God  gives  for  God's  service.  All  that  we 
have  and  are  we  owe  to  the  divine  blessing,  and  we  may  well  say  when  we  offer 
our  gifts  in  the  temple  of  God,  "  Of  Thine  own  we  give  Thee."  There  is  a 
sporadic  giving  which  is  impulsive  and  enthusiastic;  there  is  an  unsettled  giving 
which  amounts  to  very  little;  there  is  a  way  of  contributing  to  the  church  and  to- 
benevolence  prayerfully  and  according  to  system,  and  this  way  in  the  end  brings 
down  a  blessing  on  one's  self  and  helps  forward  the  coming  of  the  heavenly 
kingdom  in  the  earth.  Singularly,  one  never  misses  that  which  is  given  to  the 
Lord.  It  always  brings  back  its  return  in  full  measure  from  His  loving  hand. 
We  must  not  forget  that  we  are  stewards  and  that  often  the  only  thing  we  can 
offer  to  our  dear  Lord,  showing  Him  how  much  we  love  Him,  how  much  we  desire 
to  serve  Him,  is  our  money. 

The  pastor  of  a  church  in  New  York  Cit)^  once  told  me  that  in  his  congrega- 
tion there  were  no  rich  people,  and  very  few  who  could  really  be  called  more  than 
poor;  but,  he  said,  "  My  people  have  consecrated  their  means  to  the  Lord,  and  the 
result  is  that  they  give  largely  on  all  occasions.  They  put  aside  week  by  week, 
as  God  prospers  them,  what  they  can  spare,  and  the  result  is  that  our  collections 
are  always  wonderfully  generous  and  often  surprise  me  by  their  aggregate.  Not 
long  ago,"  he  said,  "  I  preached  a  sermon  in  which  I  urged  that  a  liberal  con- 
tribution should  be  given  to  our  foreign  missionary  fund.  This  was  in  the  morn- 
ing of  the  Sabbath,  and  in  the  afternoon,  as  I  walked  through  the  Sunday-school, 
a  young  lady  beckoned  me  to  her  and  handed  me  a  roll  of  bills.  She  said,  '  My 
sister  and  I  wish  to  contribute  this  to  the  missionary  cause.'  When  I  counted  the 
amount  it  was  one  hundred  dollars.  I  said  to  her,  '  Are  you  justified  in  making 
so  large  a  contribution  ?'  She  answered,  '  Yes;  this  is  what  we  have  been  putting 
aside  from  time  to  time  as  a  gift  to  the  Master.'  "  Another  very  poor  woman, 
earning  her  living  as  a  laundress,  during  a  winter  of  unprecedentedly  hard  times 
■was  not  called  upon  as  usual  by  the  collector  of  the  missionarj-  society,  for  the. 


THE   MANAGEMENT   OF   MONEY.  115 

reason  that  the  pastor  thought  that  it  would  not  be  right  to  ask  her  to  give 
anything  that  year.  She  was  ill  and  could  not  go  out,  but  she  sent  one  of  her 
children  to  her  pastor's  house  asking  for  a  visit.  When  he  came  she  put  her 
hand  under  her  pillow^  produced  a  little  purse  and  said:  "  Here  is  my  dollar  and 
a  half  which  I  have  been  saving,  but  which  they  forgot  to  call  for.  This  is  my 
offering  to  God,  and  I  should  be  very  much  disappointed  and  very  sorry  if  it  didl 
not  go  in  the  way  that  I  meant  it  to. ' '  There  is  a  lesson  here  for  all  of  us.  Let 
us  never  forget  that,  whether  we  have  much  or  little,  a  certain  proportion  of  it  is 
always  due  to  the  Lord,  who  loves  us  and  who  bought  us  with  His  own  blood; 
who  kept  nothing  back  when  He  came  to  this  world  to  save  us,  and  who  accepts 
the  gifts  of  our  love  as  we  make  them  in  His  name.  ' '  Freely  ye  have  received, 
freely  give,"  is  a  motto  for  every  Christian. 

"  Imogen,"  said  a  friend  the  other  day,  "  has  developed  an  amazing  capacity 
for  business  management  since  David's  death.  David  never  consulted  her  at  all. 
His  large  fortune  comes  to  her  as  a  great  surprise,  but  she  shows  a  wonderful 
capacity  for  handling  it  wisely,  and  she  is  most  able  and  clear-headed. "  So  would 
other  women  prove  if  they  had  the  chance. 

In  illustration  of  our  theme  we  quote  an  admirable  story  from  Harper's 
Bazar: 

Fidelia's  Purse. 

' '  If  only  I  had  some  money  of  my  own !  I  envy  the  maids  when  they  reach 
the  end  of  the  month  and  receive  their  wages.  I  envy  old  Aunty  Jane,  the  char- 
woman, as  she  goes  in  and  out  of  the  apartment-house  over  the  way,  for  she  earns 
her  bread,  and  buj^s  it  with  her  earnings.  As  for  me,  I  am  a  pauper  in  velvet  and 
silk,  and  I  don't  think  I  have  much  reason  to  boast  myself  concerning  my  clothes. 
I'd  as  lief  be  a  beggar  in  rags  and  be  done  with  it." 

"But,  Fidelia,"  urged  her  sister,  "  w^hy  don't  you  tell  Benjamin  how  you 
feel?  Benjamin  loves  you  dearly;  he  worships  the  ground  you  walk  on;  he  does 
not  want  you  to  have  a  wish  ungratified.  Look  at  this  drawing  room,  a  bower  for 
a  queen;  look  at  your  carriage,  a  dream  of  luxur}*;  your  horses,  your  coachman, 
your  footman,  the  service  which  waits  on  your  every  step!  My  dear  Fidelia,  if 
the  people  up  in  Greenbrier  County  saw  all  this,  and  heard  your  complaints,  they 
would  think  you  had  lost  your  senses. ' ' 

"  I'm  likely  to  lose  them  if  things  go  on  as  they're  doing  now,"  answered 
Fidelia,  firmly.  "  When  I  was  a  girl  in  Greenbrier  I  had  one  white  frock,  which 
I  had  worn  to  parties  for  five  years.  The  tucks  were  let  down  as  I  grew  taller, 
summer  after  summer.  The  lace  on  the  waist  had  been  washed  and  mended;  my 
slippers  were  homemade;  my  gloves  were  cleaned  till  they  gave  notice  on  their 
own  account  that  they  wouldn't  stand  it  any  longer.  I  had  a  black  alpaca  for 
school  wear,  both  as  teacher  and  as  pupil;  I  thrummed  on  an  ancient  piano,  I  rode 


ii6  THE   MANAGEMENT   OF   MONEY. 

an  old  plow-horse,  when  he  wasn't  wanted  in  the  field;  I  visited  the  sick,  I  sang 
in  the  choir,  I  did  as  I  pleased,  and  I  was  happy.  That  last  year  at  home  my 
salary  was  two  hundred  dollars.  Two  hundred  dollars!  Think  of  the  wealth,  of 
the  independence,  of  the  joj^  of  the  sense  of  something  accomplished,  something 
done,  which  earn's  a  night's  repose!  I  was  happy  then,  Marion — happy;  and  I 
am  not  happy  now.  I  am  wretchedly  discontented — a  bird  beating  against  the 
bars  of  my  cage.  Why,  this  gown  I  have  on  now  cost  a  hundred  dollars,  and  my 
fur  cloak  would  pay  the  salary  of  the  Greenbrier  schoolmistress — bless  her  soul ! — 
for  five  years.     I  wish  I  were  she. ' ' 

"Do  you  never  have  money?"  inquired  Marion,  perceiving  that  Fidelia  was 
very  much  in  earnest,  and  divining  that  this  outbreak  was  more  than  a  passing 
caprice.  Ever  since  she  had  been  with  Fidelia,  enjoying  with  the  fresh  and  eager 
zest  and  enthusiasm  of  a  country  girl  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  away  from  home, 
and  for  the  first  time  a  guest  in  a  great  house  in  a  great  city,  the  operas  and 
theatres  and  concerts  and  parks  and  promenades  and  mornings  of  music,  and 
drawing  rooms  where  elegant  women  assembled  to  listen  to  charming  lectures  on 
every  subject  under  the  sun,  and  luncheons,  dinners,  pleasures  of  every  kind  going 
on,  she  had  been  aware  that  Fidelia  was  dissatisfied.  But  she  had  not  been  able 
to  comprehend  the  reason  at  the  core  of  the  discontent.  Fidelia's  husband  was 
devotion  itself;  and  though,  as  a  busy  professional  man,  he  gave  comparatively 
little  time  to  his  home,  still,  when  he  was  there,  he  was  so  kind,  considerate, 
suave  and  deferential  that  Marion,  albeit  she  was  accustomed  to  good  manners  iv 
the  men  she  knew — as  every  Southern  woman  is — could  find  nothing  to  criticise. 

"I  never  have  anything  to  call  money,"  Fidelia  answered,  solemnly,  her 
large  eyes  filling  with  tears,  which  she  dashed  away.  She  was  a  beauty,  Fidelia, 
with  her  great  violet  eyes,  her  golden  hair,  and  her  daintily  poised  head,  and 
Marion  was  used  to  seeing  her  have  her  own  way.  Tears  in  Fidelia's  eyes  because 
she  had  no  money,  when  she  lived  in  elegance  and  splendor,  quite  confounded 
Marion,  who  put  down  her  embroidery  and  went  across  the  room  to  bring  the 
smelling-salts. 

"Nonsense,  sister!  I'm  not  ill,"  exclaimed  Fidelia;  "I'm  simply  out  o[ 
sorts,  and  disgusted  with  a  disagreeable  situation.  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  to 
make  you  uncomfortable  because  I  am,  but  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is.  I  have  carfare 
if  I  choose  to  ride  in  cars,  though  Benjamin  prefers  my  going  out  in  greater  state, 
and  the  horses  need  exercise,  and  altogether  he  does  not  like  my  patronizing  the 
public  conveyances,  when  I  can  be  seen  in  our  own  equipage.  I  have  a  little 
change  for  emergencies.  Once  in  a  great  while  I  have  a  five-dollar  bill.  But  I 
want  my  own  bank  account;  I  want  liberty  to  manage  my  affairs  as  best  pleases 
me.  I  desire  to  make  a  present  to  mamma  without  consulting  my  husband,  to 
pay  little  Jennie's  music  bills  out  of  savings  of  my  own;  I  don't  wish  to  be  treated 


THE   MANAGEMENT  OF   MONEY. 


117 


like  a  child,  and  made  to  ask  for  what  is  my  right  as  Benjamin's  wife — his  hon- 
ored and  trusted  wife. 

"You   see,  Marion,  the  only  thing   Benjamin  will  not   leave  in    my  care  is 


"Fidelia's  husband  was  devotion  itself." 


enough  money  to  give  me  a  certain  freedom,  and  the  power  to  .spend  or  to  save 
without  consulting  him  at  every  point. 


'ii8  THE   MANAGEMENT   OF    MONEY. 

"  Benjamiu  defers  to  my  taste  in  household  furnishing;  he  concedes  my 
prerogative  as  to  the  selection  of  servants  and  the  administration  of  the  domestic 
economy;  he  is  proud  of  me  as  his  wife.  If  we  had  a  child,  or  children,  he 
would  allow  me  to  have  entire  charge  of  their  training  and  education.  It  is  in 
just  this  one  particular  that  I  am  a  mendicant. 

"Yes,  of  course  I  buy  things  and  send  him  the  bills.  I  have  accounts  at 
the  stores,  and  my  husband  audits  them,  and  wonders  or  smiles,  as  his  mood 
happens  to  be,  at  the  sum  total  of  my  shopping;  for  indeed,  Marion,  I  am  extrava- 
gant and  reckless,  and  order  the  things  for  the  mere  fancy,  as  j-ou  w^ould  do,  too, 
if  you  were  treated  like  a  baby  or  a  plaything.  And  to-day,  when  the  lady  called 
and  wanted  me  to  subscribe  for  St.  Mary's  Guild,  I  had  to  put  her  off  until  I 
could  talk  it  over  with  mj'  husband;  and  it  will  end  in  my  giving  nothing,  for 
Benjamin  likes  to  be  consulted  about  charities,  but  always  concludes  with  the 
remark  that  we  are  doing  enough  in  the  line  of  benevolence  already.  Marion, 
my  child,  never  marry.     You  are  much  better  off  as  you  are." 

Marion  blushed,  a  lovelj^  seashell  flush  warming  her  ivory  skin,  until  she 
looked  almost  as  beautiful  as  her  sister.  Marion  was  the  plain  one  of  the  family. 
Plain  girls  are  not  without  charm,  however,  and  she  had  her  own  happy  secret — 
2,  fiance,  whose  stock-farm  of  many  acres,  and  plain,  low-ceiled,  wide-verandaed 
house,  awaited  the  coming  of  a  mistress.  In  Greenbrier  the  problems  which 
vexed  Fidelia's  soul  and  took  the  sweetness  from  her  life  would  not  annoy  Marion; 
for  her  home,  leagues  back  from  the  railroad  among  the  primitive  mountains, 
would  be  carried  on  without  much  actual  gold  and  silver;  and  as  for  barter,  the 
butter  and  eggs  and  honey  would  be  hers,  to  do  with  as  she  chose.  Marion  could 
not  imagine  herself  in  the  pitiful  case  of  Fidelia. 

Being  a  sensible  maiden,  and  one  of  those  persons  whose  disposition  is  not 
to  drift  along  at  the  mercy  of  the  wind,  but  to  act  with  decision,  and  set  matters 
straight  if  they  are  crooked,  the  little  girl  from  Greenbrier  began  to  speak  in  a 
common-sense  manner  to  her  distressed  sister. 

' '  Fidelia,  all  I  have  to  say  is  that  you  are  behaving  very  foolishly.  Benja- 
min, poor  fellow,  hasn't  an  idea  that  j'ou  are  taking  this  thing  seriously  to  heart. 
Until  you  talk  it  fully  out  with  him,  and  persuade  him  to  try  another  method, 
you  have  no  right  to  suffer  martyrdom  as  you  do.  Let  us  drop  the  subject  now 
and  go  out  for  a  walk  and  some  chocolate  creams;  I've  been  wishing  for  chocolates 
all  day." 

"  Oh  !  have  you,  dear?  "  sighed  Fidelia.  "  I  amsorrj-,  but  I  can't  get  them 
for  you,  unless  I  go  somewhere  and  have  them  sent  home,  C.  O.  D. ,  with  strict 
orders  to  let  the  delivery  be  between  six  and  seven  in  the  evening.  I  might  have 
them  charged,  it  is  true,  but  I  would  not  like  to  send  a  bill  for  a  pound  or  two  of 
chocolate  creams  to  Benjamin's  office." 


THE    MANAGEMENT   OF    MONEY.  119 

"Come,  ni)-  diear,"  said  Marion;  "I'll  relieve  your  difficulty  this  time." 

Meanwhile,  Benjamin,  unaware  of  the  conflict  in  Fidelia's  mind  on  a  subject 
which  to  him  seemed  of  very  slight  importance,  was  sauntering  slowly  homeward, 
intent  on  bringing  his  wife,  after  the  fashion  of  loving  husbands  everywhere,  some 
agreeable  votive  offering.  Now  it  was  a  new  book,  some  charming  story  about 
which  people  were  talking;  now  a  photograph;  again  a  bunch  of  violets  or  a 
cluster  of  roses;  occasionally  his  evening  gift  took  the  form  of  bonbons. 

Passing  a  brilliantly  arrayed  and  ornamented  window,  it  suddenly  struck  his 
fancy  that  women  liked  sweets,  as  was  proved  by  the  procession  of  female  figures 
flitting  to  and  fro  at  this  particular  corner.  Benjamin  determined  to  procure  for 
his  wife  and  her  sister  a  large  box  or  a  ribbon-bound  basket  of  choice  conserves 
and  confections,  sure  that  "  the  girls  "  would  be  pleased.  Reentered,  stood  before 
a  counter,  and  gave  a  lavish  order,  paying  for  his  purchase  royally  from  a  large 
roll  of  bills. 

He  was  about  leaving,  when  he  heard  a  faint  little  familiar  voice  behind  him, 
saying,  "  Pardon  me;  we  might  as  well  go  home  together,  dear." 

It  was  Fidelia.  And  Marion  was  with  her,  smiling  and  unembarrassed. 
Fidelia  seemed  a  trifle  disturbed. 

"You  are  driving?"  inquired  Benjamin. 

' '  Not  at  all, "  answered  Fidelia.  '  'We  are  taking  a  constitutional,  and  Marion 
has  been  treating  me  to  chocolates." 

"And  pray,  dearest,"  asked  Benjamin,  "why  did  not  you  treat  Marion  ?" 

"  I  ?  How  could  I  ?  I  never  have  the  means  to  do  those  spendthrift  things. 
I  leave  such  vagaries  to  my  betters. ' ' 

Benjamin  stared.  A  man  seldom  understands  the  intricacies  of  the  feminine 
mind.  All  he  did  comprehend  was  that  something  had  happened  to  put  Fidelia 
out.  He  hated  to  see  her  out  of  temper.  So  he  hastened  to  soothe  the  perturbed 
spirits  of  the  lady  by  his  side;  he  never  forgot  that  she  was  a  ladj',  and  to  be 
studied  and  treated  as  such,  though  she  was  his  wife,  and  therefore  privileged  to 
snub  him  if  she  chose. 

"  Well,  Fidelia,  I've  just  bought  five  pounds  of  bonbons  apiece  for  you,  and 
you  may  play  the  Lady  Bountiful  with  yours  if  you  like." 

This  remark  did  not  appeal  to  Fidelia.  She  received  it  coldly.  The  trio 
walked  briskly  through  the  crisp  evening  air,  and  in  silence  arrived  at  the  house, 
which,  lighted  and  cheery,  sent  out  its  cordial  welcome  to  them  as  they  went  in. 
A  perfect  dinner  was  prepared,  and  after  it,  what  with  a  glowing  open  fire,  soft- 
footed  servants,  and  the  peace  which  falls  tranquilly  on  a  civilized  household 
when  it  has  dined,  Benjamin  was  partly  conquered  beforehand,  when  Marion  sud- 
denly took  him  to  task,  playfully  at  first,  but  presently  with  great  seriousness  of 
purpose  and  manner. 


I20  THE   MANAGEMENT   OF   MONEY. 

"  Brother,  do  you  know  that  I  have  discovered  a  skeleton  in  Fidelia's  closet  ?'* 

"You  don't  tell  me!  Pray,  when?  And  what  can  it  be?  Fidelia  is  the 
most  absolutely  contented  woman  in  New  York." 

"You  think  so,  but  it  is  a  mistake.  Fidelia  is  extremely  discontented,  and 
has  a  very  legitimate  grievance." 

Benjamin  looked  grave.  He  laid  down  his  newspaper  and  flicked  away  the 
ashes  from  his  cigar.      "  What  do  you  mean,  Marion  ?     Do  not  speak  in  riddles." 

"  Fidelia  wishes  a  private  purse,  and  you  do  not  allow  her  to  have  one." 

"  Excuse  me,  Marion,"  said  Benjamin,  stiffly,  "but  surely  Fidelia  and  I  can 
arrange  our  finances  to  suit  ourselves. ' ' 

"Certainly,  if  only  you  will  do  so,"  answered  Marion,  going  to  the  music- 
room,  and  playing,  softly  and  dreamily,  waltz,  sonata,  measure  after  measure  of 
silvery  melody;  marches  with  long  thrilling  chords;  cradle  tunes,  such  as  children 
love — while  by  the  fire,  beyond  her  hearing,  the  married  pair  carried  on  a  low- 
toned  conversation. 

"  Fidelia,  you  know  that  all  I  have  in  the  world  belongs  to  you  and  is  alto- 
gether at  5'our  service.  We  can  have  no  separate  interests.  I  do  not  like  the 
idea  of  dividing  our  united  life  by  the  entering-wedge  of  an  apportionment  to  you 
of  any  stated  sum.  You  have  my  purse  always,  and  may  command  what  you 
will." 

"  In  other  words,  Benjamin,  I  am  a  licensed  beggar." 

"  Why  put  it  in  that  way?  One  cannot  beg  for  what  is  her  own  by  right. 
What  practical  basis  can  you  siiggest  which  would  meet  your  views  and  make 
you  altogether  satisfied?" 

Fidelia  did  not  hesitate  the  fraction  of  a  second. 

"  Give  me  a  stated  sum  every  month  for  my  personal  use,  entirely  apart  from 
housekeeping  or  other  expenses  connected  with  our  home;  let  this  be  deposited  in 
my  name  in  some  convenient  bank,  let  me  have  my  own  check-book,  and  you  will 
never  hear  another  complaint  from  my  lips.  I  ask  only  a  small  sum,  dear;  but  I 
wish  the  knowledge  that  there  are  funds  which  I  may  control — the  pleasure  of  my 
own  private  purse." 

"  In  short,  you  prefer  an  allowance — an  allowance — to  the  unrestricted  use  of 
your  husband's  income?" 

"  I  do  certainly;  for  the  latter  phrase,  though  beautiful,  has  no  practical  sig- 
nificance. If  the  allowance  is  to  cover  all  my  needful  expenses  of  dress,  traveling 
and  other  incidentals,  it  will  have  to  be  larger  than  the  one  I  am  pleading  for — 
which  is  simply  money  enough  to  come  and  go  on,  without  feeling  always  like  a 
mendicant  who  has  no  hope  of  brightening  her  fortunes." 

"  We'll  try  it  for  a  year,  Fidelia,"  was  Benjamin's  conclusion,  and  Fidelia 
stooped  and  kissed  him.     She  was  standing  by  his  chair,   and  she  swept  her 


THE  SIN   OF   OMISSION.  i2r 

fingers  caressingly  through  his  hair,  and  looked  as  pretty  and  animated  as  she 
used  to  do  at  Greenbrier  in  their  courting  days. 

"Women  are  enigmas,"  said  Benjamin,  musingly.  "  It  never  entered  my 
brain  that  you  cared  so  much  about  so  small  a  thing.  Why,  it  might  easily  have 
been  arranged  in  this  way  from  the  beginning. ' ' 

*'  I  wish  I  had  dared  to  speak  sooner,"  said  Fidelia.  "I  have  tried,  but  you 
neJV'cr  would  really  listen,  and  lately  I've  felt  desperate.  You  wouldn't  like  the 
situation,  dear,  if  the  cases  were  reversed." 

"  I  own  that  I  might  not.  You  may  prefer  the  old  waj^  my  love.  This  is 
only  an  experiment." 

"An  experiment  worth  trying,"  cried  Fidelia,  gaily,  while  Marion's  music 
surged  up  into  a  triumphant  march. 

And  "  Women  are  queer,"  thought  Benjamin,  applying  himself  again  to  the 
evening  paper. 


The  Sin  of  Omission. 

It  isn't  the  thing  you  do,  Dear, 

It's  the  thing  you  leave  undone 
That  gives  you  a  bit  of  a  heartache 

At  the  setting  of  the  sun. 
The  tender  word  forgotten; 

The  letter  you  did  not  write; 
The  flower  you  did  not  send.  Dear, 

Are  your  haunting  ghosts  at  night. 

The  stone  you  might  have  lifted 

Out  of  a  brother's  way; 
The  bit  of  heartsome  counsel 

You  were  hurried  too  much  to  say; 
The  loving  touch  of  the  hand.  Dear, 

The  gentle,  winning  tone 
Which  you  had  no  time  nor  thought  for 

With  troubles  enough  of  your  own. 

Those  little  acts  of  kindness 

So  easily  out  of  mind. 
Those  chances  to  be  angels 

Which  we  poor  mortals  find; 


122 


THE  SIN   OF   OMISSION. 


They  come  in  night  and  silence, 
Each  sad,  reproachful  wraith, 

When  hope  is  faint  and  flagging 
And  chill  has  fallen  on  faith. 

For  life  is  all  too  short,  Dear, 

And  sorrow  is  all  too  great 
To  suffer  our  slow  compassion 

That  tarries  until  too  late; 
And  it  isn't  the  thing  j^ou  do,  Dear, 

It's  the  thing  j'ou  leave  undone 
Which  gives  you  a  bit  of  a  heartache 

At  the  setting  of  the  sun. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Boarding  versus  Housekeeping. 


YOUNG  couple  often  find  it  convenient  to  board  during  the 
first  years  of  their  married  life.  There  is  something  to  be  said 
in  behalf  of  this  arrangement.  If  thej-  are  starting  with  a  very 
^^  small  capital,  they  can  more  definitely  manage  their  expenses  at 
first,  and  by  careful  economy  can  lay  up  enough  to  begin  in  their 
own  house  later  on.  If  they  have  the  good  fortune  to  get  into  the  right  kind  of 
house,  especially  if  the}'  can  be  accommodated  in  the  home  of  some  pleasant  people, 
who  do  not  take  other  boarders,  the  arrangement  may  turn  out  an  exceedingly 
agreeable  one  for  all  parties.  Still,  boarding,  no  matter  how  ideal  it  may  be,  is 
only  a  step  toward  the  home-making,  and  is  not  like  home  itself.  It  is  living  in  a 
tent  instead  of  setting  up  a  home. 

People  who  board  seldom  have  a  sense  of  permanency  in  their  domestic  life. 
They  live  in  trunks  and  their  aim  is  to  have  as  few  portable  pos.sessions  as  possible, 
so  that  they  may  break  camp  and  change  their  quarters,  if  needful,  at  a  moment's 
notice.  There  is  a  delightful  sense  of  privacy  when  one  turns  the  key  in  one's 
own  latch,  and  sits  down  at  one's  own  table,  and  lives  under  one's  own  vine  and 
fig  tree,  which  one  cannot  have  in  the  nomadic  life  of  the  boarding  house  or  hotel. 

Of  course,  if  people  who  board  have  a  sufficient  income  to  warrant  their 
making  their  abode  in  a  large  and  beautiful  hotel,  the^'  will  be  saved  much  of  the 
drudgery  and  many  of  the  inconveniences  of  life  in  their  own  house.  In  a  hotel 
you  touch  a  bell;  and,  presto,  an  obliging  person  is  at  your  elbow  to  know  what 
your  serene  highness  may  desire. 

Everything  is  brought  to  you ;  you  sit  down  at  a  table  a  queen  might  envy, 
and  order  a  sumptuous  repast  from  a  bill  of  fare  varied  enough  to  make  a  banquet 
for  princes  and  great  people  generally.  You  fare  sumptuously  every  day,  and  to 
suit  the  splendor  about  you,  you  wear  neat  attire  and  cannot  be  seen  at  any  time 
out  of  your  own  room  in  a  negligee  costume.  The  whole  thing  has  much  the  aspect 
of  life  in  an  Arabian  night's  entertainment,  where  obedient  genii  are  always 
ready  to  come  at  a  call  and  furnish  everything  the  traveler  can  possibly  desire. 
And  you  must  be  always  on  dress  parade  to  some  extent. 

But  even  with  all  this,  hotel  fare  becomes  monotonous,  and  the  bustle  of  hotel 
life  is  not  so  satisfactory  as  the  retirement  of  a  home  of  one's  own.     In  the  smaller 

(123) 


(124) 


Lives  under  one's  own  vine  and  fig  tree." 


BOARDING  VERSUS   HOUSEKEEPING.  125 

boarding  houses  conveniences  are,  of  course,  much  more  Hmited;  service  is  not 
always  up  to  the  mark,  and  even  at  the  best  of  times,  the  menu  palls  upon  one's 
appetite.  One  learns  that  Monday's,  Tuesday's  and  Wednesday's  bill  of  fare  is 
regulated  by  a  law  exact  as  that  of  the  Medes  and  Persians.  One  grows  tired  of 
seeing  the  trim  maiden  ladies  and  the  elderly  widows  in  black  gowns,  and  the  nice 


•  (^annoi  be  seen  at  any  time  out  of  your  own  room  in  negligee  costume." 

young  men,  and  the  pretty  belles,  who  make  up  the  coterie  around  the  boarding- 
house  table,  and  one  sighs  for  a  little  place  of  one's  very  own. 

The  women  whose  homes  are  in  the  boarding  house,  having  comparatively 
little  to  engage  their  attention,  become  interested  in  small  things.  They  talk  on 
trivialities;  the  talk  sometimes  grows  personal;  there  are  feuds  and  opposite  sides, 


(i26)  "And  you  must  be  always  in  dress  parade  to  some  extent." 


BOARDING    VERSUS   HOUSEKEEPING.  127 

and  altogether  the  life  is  not  invaribly  elevating.  For  a  bride  with  little  to  do  all 
day  while  her  husband  is  at  business,  or  for  a  young  mother,  the  boarding  house 
is  hardly  so  fitting  a  shelter  as  the  simplest  home.  It  would  seem,  all  things 
being  equal,  that  it  is  usually  wiser  not  to  dread  the  day  of  small  things;  but  to 
begin  at  once  as  one  hopes  to  go  on.  Even  if  there  is  not  very  much  money,  if 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  love;  if  there  is  common  sense  and  prudence  and  loyalty, 
the  two  will  start  better  under  their  own  roof  than  they  will  under  the  roof  of  a 
neighbor. 

The  wife,  particularly,  may  as  well  grow  used  to  marketing,  catering,  cook- 
ing and  doing  the  various  things  which  are  implied  in  housekeeping  for  two, 
finding  even  her  inexperience  full  of  lessons  and  learning  by  her  very  mistakes. 
Nobody  should  fear  housekeeping  because  she  has  had  no  practice  in  it.  What- 
ever people  may  tell  you,  there  is  nothing  occult  or  difficult  about  the  simple 
processes  of  housekeeping,  and  nothing  at  all  which  a  sensible,  intelligent,  aver- 
age American  girl  cannot  master  in  six  weeks  if  she  gives  her  attention  to  the 
matter.  I  speak  on  this  subject  with  feeling,  because  when  I  began  myself  I  did 
not  know  any  more  about  practical  housewifery  than  a  child  of  six,  and  my  atten- 
tion had  always  been  given  to  things  quite  opposite  the  mysteries  of  the  kitchen 
and  dining  room;  but  I  found  very  speedily  that  if  I  had  to  show  other  people,  I 
must  know  how  myself,  and  so  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  start  right  in  and 
learn  how  to  broil  a  steak,  bake  a  loaf  and  do  whatever  was  to  be  done  about  the 
house. 

There  are  many  manuals  which  greatly  assist  the  young  housekeeper;  but 
that  which  aids  her  beyond  all  else  is  the  determination  not  to  be  daunted  by  diffi- 
culties, but  to  prove  herself  equal  to  any  situation,  and  superior  to  any  emergency, 
let  either  be  what  it  will. 

I  take  it  for  granted  that  most  young  wives  have  mothers  who  can  advise 
them  as  to  the  best  ways  of  management,  and  all  husbands  have  mothers  who 
have  been  patterns  of  perfection.  The  man  does  not  live  who  will  not  tell  you 
that  his  mother's  doughnuts,  his  mother's  pies,  his  mother's  puddings,  and  viands 
in  his  mother's  house  generally,  surpassed  anything  he  will  ever  again  find  on  the 
face  of  the  wide  earth.  Do  not  take  exception  to  this  very  natural  feeling  on  his 
part.  The  man  looks  back  through  the  glamour  of  a  happy  mist  and  he  forgets 
that  in  the  days  when  his  mother's  cooking  melted  so  sweetly  in  his  mouth,  he 
brought  to  the  homeliest  fare  the  appetite  of  a  hungrj^  growing  boy.  Besides, 
men,  as  a  rule,  are  more  or  less  given  to  exploiting  their  relatives  to  their  wives, 
and  to  boast  of  their  wives'  wonderful  attainments  to  other  people.  Many  a  wife 
would  be  surprised  to  hear  how  genially  her  husband  praises  her  when  he  is  out  of 
her  sight  and  hearing.  At  all  events,  it  is  quite  a  good  plan  for  the  young  wife  to 
ask  advice  and  accept  assistance  wherever  she  can  get  it.     We  learn  a  great  deal 


128 


BOARDING  VERSUS   HOUSEKEEPING. 


in  this  world  by  keeping  our  ej-^es  open  and  observing  what  is  going  on;  also  we 
learn  a  good  deal  by  the  simple  method  of  asking  questions.  Nothing  is  ever 
learned  without  attention  and  industry,  and  in  the  science  of  housekeeping  it  is 
■quite  worth  while  to  study  the  ways  of  those  who  have  gone  before  us,  and  to 
gain  by  what  they  have  to  give. 

A  good  cookery  book  is  a  friend  in  need  and  nobody  should  think  of  begin- 
ning housekeeping  without  one  or  without  several  of  these  useful  advisers.  The 
•best  housekeepers  and  the  most  expert  cooks  are  those  who  follow  implicitly  the 


"It  is  well  to  have  a  tormula." 

■directions  laid  down  in  recipes.  Of  course  there  are  people  who  seem  to  cook  by 
nature,  and  who  throw  things  together  with  apparent  ease  and  produce  results 
which  justify  their  hap-hazard  way  of  cooking.  These  people  belong  to  the 
order  of  cooks  who  are  born,  not  made.  The  most  of  us,  however,  must  pursue 
a  different  method,  and  we  will  find  it  to  our  advantage  to  have  a  formula  and 
to  follow  it  literally. 


BOARDING  VERSUS   HOUSEKEEPING.  139 

My  dear  and  honored  friend,  Marian  Harland,  one  day  in  her  kitchen  said  to 
her  Irish  cook:  "  Do  you  know  where  '  Common  Sense  in  the  Household  '  is?  " 
— this  being  her  own  famous  manual  of  cookery.  The  book  was  not  at  hand  and 
was  sent  for,  and  while  Mrs.  Terhune  waited  for  it  the  cook  took  occasion  to 
remark  in  a  lofty  manner:  "  It's  a  poor  cook  that  needs  a  receipt  book."  This 
was  very  amusing,  addressed  to  a  woman  who  stood  at  the  head  of  the  house- 
keeping profession  in  America,  but  it  was  the  attitude  of  the  mind  of  ignorance, 
not  of  knowledge.  Besides,  there  is  no  use  in  our  burdening  our  memories  with  a 
lot  of  useless  luggage.  Why  should  we  remember  things  which  we  may  just  as  well 
have  set  down  in  a  book,  to  which  we  can  refer  at  need.  If  you  are  to  make  a 
dessert,  whatever  it  be,  simply  look  at  your  recipe  and  follow  it  exactly,  and  if 
you  are  careful  to  have  everything  just  as  the  book  tells  you  you  should,  your 
result  will  probabl}^  justify  the  pains  you  take. 

Housekeeping  for  two  implies  smaller  quantities  than  are  usually  given  in  the 
ordinary  cook  book,  and  therefore  it  will  be  necessary  for  you  quite  often  to  halve 
or  quarter  the  amounts  which  you  find  in  the  recipes.  This,  however ,^  is  an  easy 
matter.  One  needs  to  bring  to  bear  on  everything  in  life  common  sense  and 
judgment.  The  bill  of  fare  in  the  simplest  home  is  usually  more  varied  than  that 
which  obtains  in  a  boarding  house,  for  the  reason  that  the  housekeeper  does  not 
suffer  herself  to  fall  into  a  rut.  There  is  an  art,  too,  in  buying.  In  this  country 
we  are  given  to  laying  in  large  quantities  of  things.  We  might  easily  take  a 
lesson  from  the  housekeepers  of  France  and  of  Italy.  In  Paris  one  buys  exactly 
what  she  wants  for  a  meal.  The  purchasing  is  done  in  very  small  quantities,  and 
everything  is  carefully  counted  down  to  the  fraction  of  a  cent.  Here  we  are  very 
apt  to  despise  small  economies,  the  result  being  that  our  purses  are  lean  and  in 
most  households  we  waste  enough  to  support  another  family.  When,  some  years 
ago,  there  was  a  great  war  debt  to  be  paid  by  France,  the  people  found  themselves 
quite  equal  to  the  added  strain  because  they  were  a  nation  of  great  frugality  and 
everybody  was  able  to  bear  his  proportion.  In  dry  groceries,  such  as  sugar,  flour, 
etc.,  there  is  sometimes  an  advantage  in  purchasing  in  the  larger  quantity.  Soap 
gains  by  being  kept  on  hand,  as  it  hardens  and  does  not  waste  away  so  fast  as 
when  first  made,  when  it  is  soft  and  easily  melts  away  in  the  water;  but  there  are 
many  things  of  which  it  is  best  to  buy  only  what  you  want  at  the  moment.  The 
housekeeper's  rule  should  be  to  keep  her  living  expenses  well  within  her  income. 
Only  thus  can  there  be  real  comfort  and  the  absence  of  anxiety  in  domestic  life. 

Above  everything  else,  avoid  debt.  It  hangs  around  one's  neck  like  a  mill- 
stone, it  fetters  hands  and  feet,  and  it  robs  one  of  all  self-respect.  Nobody  can  look 
himself  in  the  face  in  the  looking-glass,  without  a  blush,  unless  he  "  owes  not  any 
man."  Retrenchment,  self-sacrifice,  honest  poverty,  are  far  to  be  preferred  to 
debt. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Florilla's   Sanitarium. 

'^^^  can't  stay  here  by  yourself,  Florilla.  It  will  be  too  desolate. 
Rent  the  old  house  for  the  summer,  and  come  to  New  York 
with  me.  There  must  be  many  things  which  a  clever  girl 
like  you  can  find  to  do  in  a  big  city." 

"  Perhaps  there  are,  Aunt  Adela,  but  I  don't  know  of 
an}'.  In  the  meantime  I  must  live,  and  it  costs  less  to  live 
here  than  it  would  in  town.  I  have  grandmother's  little  legacy  as 
a  nest-egg,  the  garden  will  furnish  me  with  fruit  and  vegetables,  the  bees  will  give 
me  honey,  and  old  Keziah  would  be  homeless  if  I  went  away.  She  takes  the 
heaviest  end  of  the  work,  and  I  think  I  cannot  do  better  than  to  stay  right  here 
among  the  people  who  have  known  me  since  I  was  born.  I  shall  miss  dear  grand- 
mother terribly." 

"She  has  been  a  great  care,"  said  Aunt  Adela,  "  and  very  hard  to  get  on 
with  for  the  last  two  years,  but  you  were  very  patient,  Florilla." 

"Well,  Auntie,  it  isn't  hard  to  be  patient  with  one  you  love.  And  if  the 
young  and  strong  cannot  bear  with  the  old,  and  make  allowances  for  their  weak- 
ness, I  think  they  are  very  poor  creatures  ;  very  unworthy  of  respect.  Grand- 
mother had  been  active  so  long  that  she  felt  being  laid  aside  more  than  most 
people  do,  and  somehow,  toward  the  end,  I  had  two  sorts  of  love  for  her:  the  love 
of  a  child  for  a  mother,  and  the  love  of  a  mother  for  a  child.  I  shall  miss  her, 
dear  grandmother." 

"  I  never  knew  her  very  intimately,"  Aunt  Adela  replied  after  a  pause.  "  I 
never  met  your  father's  people  much  till  I  came  back  from  Italy,  after  your 
mother  died.  But  your  grandmother  was  a  good  woman,  Florilla.  The  thing 
which  troubles  me,  though,  is  leaving  you  alone,  and  I  must  take  the  first  train 
back  in  the  morning.  I  have  been  away  as  long  as  I  can  be  spared  from  home." 
"  I  haven't  had  time  for  planning  yet,  Auntie,  but  this  is  what  I  have  thought 
of.  Here  is  this  pretty  house  with  the  hills  in  the  background  and  the  lovely  lake 
in  front;  here  is  the  comfortable  furnishing,  the  airy  rooms,  and  the  good  beds 
are  here,  and  a  plentiful  supply  of  linen ;  everything,  in  fact,  that  a  house  needs. 
I  am  not  a  trained  nurse,  but  I  am  accustomed  to  an  invalid,  and  I  have  a  practical 
knowledge  of  what  the  sick  want.  Keziah  is  devoted  to  me.  I  think  I  will  carry 
on  a  sanitarium  in  a  very  modest  way  here  in  my  home." 

(130) 


FLORIIvIvA'S   SANITARIUM.  131 

"  You  can  but  tr}^"  said  Aunt  Adela.  "  It  will  be  hard  work,  and  if  you 
should  not  succeed,  you  can  always  come  to  me  and  rent  or  sell  this  place.  For 
my  part,  I  have  lived  so  long  in  the  stir  and  bustle  of  New  York,  that  I  don't  care 
for  the  country,  except  for  a  little  while  in  the  summer,  but  you  have  grown 
accustomed  to  it,  I  suppose,  and  it  does  not  seem  so  lonesome,  so  dreary." 

"  I  love  it,  dear,  I  just  love  it.  I  love  the  fields  and  the  flowers,  the  old  apple 
trees  in  the  south  meadow,  the  willows  by  the  lake,  the  silence  and  the  sweetness, 
and  the  kind  neighbors  who  call  me  Florrie  as  they  did  when  I  was  a  little  girl. 
I  could  not  be  contented  where  trolley  cars  were  clanging  and  elevated  railroads 
thundering  along  all  day." 

"  Tea  is  ready,  Florilla,"  said  old  Keziah,  putting  her  head  in  at  the  parlor 
door.  Keziah  would  not  have  thought  of  prefixing  a  "  Miss  "  to  the  name  of 
the  young  woman  she  had  carried  in  her  arms  as  a  baby,  though  she  served  her 
as  loyally  as  a  baroness  of  the  middle  ages  was  served  by  her  maidens.  A  strong 
old  woman  and  capable,  Keziah  Sinn  might  be  depended  on  to  guard  Florilla 
Dawes. 

The  two  ladies  went  out  to  a  country  tea  of  fresh  eggs,  scones,  honey,  and 
cream  so  thick  that  a  spoon  in  it  stood  straight  up,  like  a  sentry  on  duty.  Aunt 
Adela,  looking  about  her  at  the  old-fashioned  luxury  of  everything  could  not  but 
admit  to  herself  that  her  niece  had  at  least  the  environment  suited  to  her  purpose. 

"  But,  dear  me,"  she  thought,  "  what  is  five  hundred  dollars,  and  that  is  all 
Florilla  has,  besides  the  house." 

To  Florilla  the  five  hundred  dollars  seemed  a  large  sum.  She  had  rarely  had 
five  dollars  in  her  pocket-book  at  one  time,  in  her  whole  life,  and  she  had  never 
yet  needed  money,  living  in  a  place  where  barter  covered  most  of  the  simple 
transactions.  There  was  no  mortgage  on  the  house,  and  Florilla  had  not  a  debt 
in  the  world. 

After  she  had  seen  her  Aunt  Adela  off  the  next  morning  she  went  down  the 
long  village  street  to  the  doctor's  house,  and  told  her  old  friend  what  she  wished 
to  do.  To  Dr.  vSanford  there  was  nothing  fanciful  or  absurd  in  Florilla's  proposi- 
tion. On  the  contrary,  he  thought  well  of  it,  as  a  practical  notion  which  could 
easily  be  carried  out.  He  told  her  that  he  had  an  old  classmate  in  town  whose 
1  specialty  was  treating  nervous  patients  and  those  in  need  of  a  rest  cure,  and  he 
volunteered  to  write  to  Doctor  Lawrence  at  once,  in  Florilla's  behalf 

"  You  get  your  house-cleaning  done,  child,"  he  said.  "  Not  that  you  are  not 
always  as  neat  as  a  pin,  but  women  aren't  satisfied  unless  they  turn  the  whole 
house  out  of  the  windows  every  spring  and  fall." 

Three  weeks  later,  when  the  faint  golden -green  of  the  April  orchards  had 
deepened  to  a  richer  tone,  and  the  land  was  everywhere  a  tossing  sea  of  pink  and 
white  blossoms,  Florilla  Dawes  received  a  thick  letter  from  New  York.     The  great 


132 


FLORILIvA'S   SANITARIUM. 


physician  wrote  to  her  about  a  patient  of  his  whom  he  proposed  sending  to  her,  a 
lady  who  would  require  very  peculiar  care  and  treatment,  and  for  whom  he  desired 
such  an  atmosphere  as  she  would  find  in  Florilla's  home.  She  had  been  under  a 
long  strain,  had  been  in  the  midst  of  exacting  duties,  and  must  have  absolute 
tranquillity  for  weeks  to  come.  ' '  Twenty-five  dollars  a  week  will  not  be  too  much 
to  charge  for  her,"  he  added,  "  as  during  her  stay  you  must  have  no  other  sick 
people.  But  you  need  not  exclude  one  or  two  quiet  cheerful  guests  in  addition,  if 
you  hear  of  them.  Miss  I^illie  Fairchild  will  give  no  trouble  that  she  can  help, 
and  your  house  is  just  the  place  for  her." 

Arrangements  were  soon  completed,  and  one  lovely  afternoon  Florilla,  borrow- 
ing a  neighbor's  phaeton  and  leisurely  old  horse,  drove  to  the  station  to  meet  Miss 
Fairchild.     A  maid  had  accompanied  her  on  the  journey,  but  left  by  the  return 


"  She  went  down  the  long  village  street,"  etc. 

train.  Florilla  was  attracted  at  once  by  the  sweet  refined  tones  and  the  gentle 
high-bred  air  of  her  new  inmate,  and  though  she  discovered  that  Miss  Fairchild 
was  accustomed  to  much  service,  and  expected  to  receive  it,  she  was  more  thau 
ready  with  her  ministrations.  She  had  rubbed  and  bathed  her  grandmother,  and 
Miss  Fairchild  found  her  able  to  give  her  restful  massage,  and  not  averse  to  doing 
anything  an  invalid  required. 

Old  Keziah  had  her  private  opinion  of  a  woman  who  looked  well  but  had  her 
breakfast  in  bed,  took  something  to  eat — an  egg,  or  a  glass  of  milk,  or  a  cup  of 
broth  every  two  hours  in  the  day — and  had  to  be  rubbed  before  she  went  to  sleep 
at  night;  but  she  felt  pleased  that  Florilla  was  paid  for  the  lady's  fancies,  and  she, 
too,  was  won  by  the  invariable  softness  and  charm  of  Miss  Fairchild's  manner. 


LANDSCAPE. 


133) 


134  FlvORILLA  S  SANITARIUM. 

If  the  two  country-bred  women  had  known  it,  that  same  charm  had  captivated 
the  most  fastidious  people  in  very  exclusive  social  circles;  it  was  Miss  Fairchild's 
distinction  that,  added  to  beauty,  she  was  both  sympathetic  and  exceptionally  well 
bred. 

Florilla,  quick  to  receive  from  her  associates,  insensibly  learned  certain  graces 
of  speech  and  manner  from  her  guest  during  the  three  months  of  her  stay. 

Two  rather  elderly  ladies  and  a  young  girl  were  added  to  the  household  before 
the  summer  was  over,  and  Keziah's  niece,  a  farmer's  daughter,  sixteen  and 
studying  for  college,  came  to  help  in  the  increased  work  of  the  family.  The  ladies 
were  teachers  taking  their  vacation  and  needing  a  quiet  spot  where  Uiey  could  sit 
on  the  porch,  read  and  knit,  go  for  long  walks,  and  drive  about  the  country  at 
their  will.  A  gay  place  was  their  aversion.  The  stillness  and  peace  of  Florilla' s 
home  suited  them  precisely.  The  young  woman  was  another  patient  from  town, 
recommended  like  Miss  Fairchild,  by  her  physician,  to  the  sisterly  care  of  Miss 
Dawes. 

"All  very  well  for  summer,"  wrote  Aunt  Adela,  "but  do  you  suppo.se, 
Florilla,  that  you'll  have  visitors  coming  to  \^ou  in  the  dead  of  winter  ?  Then 
3-ou'll  have  to  shut  up  the  house  and  try  something  else." 

"  I  am  savnng  so  much,  dear  Aunt}-, "  Florilla  wrote,  "  that  I'll  be  able  to  rest 
"when  winter  comes.  Besides,  I  am  living  by  a  good  old  rule,  in  a  good  old  book, 
'  Take  no  thought  for  the  morrow;  the  morrow  shall  take  thought  for  the  things  of 
itself ''  But  my  dear  doctor  tells  me  that  people  are  often  sent  to  the  country  in 
the  winter,  in  these  days,  and  Miss  Fairchild  has  promised  to  speak  to  her  friends 
for  me." 

Miss  Fairchild  kept  her  word.  And  if  Florilla  could  have  heard  her,  this  is 
T\'hat  she  would  have  been  told  about  herself : 

p,  "  Florilla  Dawes  is  a  sensible,  amiable,  merrj^  hearted  woman,  whose  house 
shines  with  neatness,  whose  rooms  are  all  used,  who  has  good  springs  on  her  beds 
and  excellent  hair  mattresses,  whose  cooking  is  of  the  best,  and  who  knows  how 
to  make  people  thoroughly  comfortable.  Plenty  of  clean  towels,  plenty  of  good 
milk,  no  jars  or  friction.  I  can  recommend  Florilla's  little  sanitarium.  It  is 
kept  by  a  sweet,  loving,  lovable  young  woman,  who  has  tact,  kindness  and  com- 
mon sense." 

The  doctor's  statement  was  verified.  Winter  and  summer  alike  Florilla  had 
all  the  guests  she  could  care  for  under  the  old  roof,  where  she  had  learned  her 
profession  in  nursing  a  feeble  and  querulous  grandmother. 


The  walk  is  not  in  the  valley  but  through  the  valley;     Ah  !  then  it  must  be 
a  straight  and  plain  path,  and  one  that  leads  somewhere.     It  must  be  a  direct 


FLORII^LA'S   SANITARIUM. 


135 


journey  to  a  distinct  destination.  Yes,  I  am  assured  that  it  is,  and  that  the  desti- 
nation is  nothing  less  delightful  than  heaven  itself.  How,  then,  can  I  fear  when 
once  by  faith  I  have  connected  the  valley  with  the  heaven  to  which  it  leads  ?  This 
going  must  be  like  the  flight  of  a  bird  through  some  dark  cloud,  and  then  out  into 
the  full  light  of  the  sun.  It  must  be  like  some  traveler  journeying  through  a 
deeply  shadowed  canyon  between  the  mountains,  and  then  coming  out  into  the 
broad  and  smiling  country  where  the  sun  is  shining  in  its  glory,  and  where  every 
green  herb  and  beautiful  flower  is  springing  up  to  bless.  Surely ,  if  it  is  only  a  quiet 
walk  through  the  sheltered  valley,  and  the  valley  itself  opens  out  full  and  broad 
in  the  shining  fields  of  heaven,  why,  indeed,  should  I  fear  ? — G.  B.  F.  Hallock,  D.  D. 


"  The  trivial  round,  the  common  task. 
Will  furnish  all  we  ought  to  ask. 
Know  to  deny  ourselves,  a  road 
To  bring  us  daily  nearer  God." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Music  in  the  Family. 

/HE  bond  of  the  family  is  love.     The  expression  of  love  may  be 
practical  or  it  may  show  itself  in  a  more  spiritual  way — in 
aflfection.     Music  may  be  taken  as  the  symbol  and  expression 
which  unites  these  two  features.     The  tangible  part  of  music 
is  practical,  addressing  itself  to  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  hand,  the 
voice.     Its  ethereal  aspect  takes  us  at  once  out  of  the  realm  of 
C    the  senses,   and  carries  us  into  a  toneworld  of  surpassing  beauty, 
j     Music  is  a  fitting  symbol  of  that  very  inner  spirit  of  love  which  is  the 
characteristic  of  every  true  family. 
A  single  sound  alone  is  but  a  noise.     Yet  each  single  sound  can  be  fitted  into 
the  gamut,  out  of  whose  seven  notes  all  music  is  constructed.      Browning  speaks 
in  his  "Abt  Vogler"  of  the  three  sounds  which  create,  not  a  fourth  sound,  but  a 
star  !     It  is  those  starry  effects  of  harmony  or  associated  sounds  which  so  fittingly 
represent  the  family.     Each  adds  an  essential  note,   which  would  be  wanting 
without  that  particular  member  of  the  home  circle.     Union  of  different  tempera- 
ments forms  the  fascinations  of  the  family.     And  music  in  grouping  and  binding 
a  diversified  family  into  a  unity  about  so  lovely  a  centre  shows  one  of  its  most 
charming  powers. 

Music  is  so  wide  a  realm  that  it  takes  into  its  magic  enclosure  the  gifted  and 
also  the  undeveloped,  the  young  but  latent  lover  of  song  and  sound,  and  the  mature 
connoisseur  and  master  of  its  science  and  art.  The  great  palace  of  music  opens 
wide  doors  to  those  who  love  and  long  for  the  divine  in  sound.  Of  all  our  art- 
loves,  this  is  the  most  ethereal.  It  speaks  indeed  a  mystic  language  and  one  of 
other  spheres.     But  we  comprehend  it. 

If  jarring,  discordant  sounds  sometimes  fall  into  rhythm,  as  we  are  told  the 
incoherent  noises  of  a  great  city  are  reduced  to  tranquilizing,  lulling,  musical 
effects,  by  distance,  so  may  the  sometimes  unavoidably  disturbing  elements  of 
family  life  glide  softly  into  forgetfulness  in  the  family  music  in  which  all  join. 

"  Given,"  says  Syndey  Lanier,  "  the  raw  material — to  wit,  wife,  children,  a 
friend  or  two  and  a  house — two  other  things  are  necessary.  These  are  a  good  fire 
and  music.  And  inasmuch  as  we  can  do  without  the  fire  for  half  the  year,  I  may 
say  that  music  is  the  one  essential.     After  an  evening  spent  around  the  piano  or 

^136) 


MUSIC   IN   THE   FAMILY. 


137 


the  flute  or  the  violin,  how  warm  and  how  chastened  is  the  kiss  with  which  the 
family  all  say  good-night  !     Ah,  the  music  has  taken  all  the  daycares  and  thrown. 


MUSIC  IN  THE   FAMII.V. 

them  into  its  terrible  alembic,  and  boiled  them  and  rocked  them  and  cooled  them, 
till  they  are  crystallized  into  one  care,  which  is  a  most  sweet  and  rare  and  desirable 


138  MUSIC    IX   THE   FAMII^Y, 

sorrow — the  yearning  for  God.  We  all,  from  little  toddler  tO  father,  go  to  bed 
with  so  much  of  heaven  in  our  hearts,  at  least,  as  that  we  long  for  it  unutterably 
and  believe  it." 

Next  in  importance  after  the  attitude  of  the  family  toward  God  is  the  keeping 
its  spirit  gentle  and  affectionate.  Travelers  tell  us  that  the  atmosphere  in  St. 
Peter's,  Rome,  is  like  a  celestial  climate,  always  equable,  never  too  hot,  never  too 
cold.  So  the  temperature  of  our  homes  should  be  serene,  life-giving,  always 
charged  with  the  tranquillizing,  yet  uplifting,  ever-reigning  spirit  of  love. 

Music  will  help  to  effect  such  a  desirable  «tate.  Even  with  its  most  rudi- 
mentary beginnings,  there  steals  into  the  home  a  sense  of  something  above  and 
beyond  the  life  of  the  senses,  differing  in  its  nature  from  the  three  meals  a  day, 
and  the  routine  of  economy  or  of  pleasure. 

Intercourse  with  an  ethereal  world  is  let  down  upon  us,  a  supra-mortal 
language  is  spoken  to  us,  a  new  and  mystic  world  is  revealed  to  us — dimly, 
perhaps,  at  first,  but  gradually  drawing  us  toward  itself  with  more  and  more 
powerful  charm . 

"  A  man,"  says  Drummond,  "  cannot  be  a  memoer  of  a  family,  and  remain 
an  utter  egoist. ' '  And  music  in  the  familj^  bj''  the  family,  draws  each  one  out 
individually,  and  yet  each  one  must  subdue  himself  to  the  harmony  of  the 
whole.  One  egotist  can  destroy  much  family  music.  And  the  willingness  to 
fall  into  the  secondary  place,  to  accompany  another  who  takes  the  first  place,  is 
one  of  the  unselfish  acts  which  music  requires  and  promotes. 

Into  the  family  life  is  brought,  and  should  be  brought,  everj^thing  which 
concerns  each  member,  be  it  sad,  joyous  or  neutral.  But,  in  fact,  very  little  is  of 
a  neutral  nature  in  our  American  homes.  Everj-thing  is  vital,  from  the  getting 
off  to  school  in  the  morning,  to  the  seeing  of  the  last  one  in  at  night.  "We  lead 
highly  vitalized  lives,  and  for  this  reason,  quite  as  much  as  to  relieve  tedium  and 
monotony,  we  need  the  controlling  and  adjusting,  the  tranquillizing  effect  of 
music.  It  is  not  possible,  without  a  greater  expense  and  trouble  than  our  average 
families  can  afford,  to  call  in  musicians  from  the  outside.  For  most  of  us,  if  we 
are  to  have  music  in  the  home,  we  must  depend  upon  ourselves  for  it.  To  forego 
such  a  boon  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  It  can  always  be  obtained  b}^  effort  and 
determination.  This  latter  is  even  more  important  than  musical  abilit3^  Every 
family  should  have  music  in  some  form,  even  if  no  other  than  singing  together 
without  an  instrument,  among  its  purposes  and  its  achievements.  An  instrument, 
presumably  a  piano,  is  much  to  be  desired,  but  much  can  be  effected  without  a 
piano,  especially  if  the  father  or  one  of  the  sons  has  some  knowledge  of  the  flute 
or  violin.  The  rent  of  a  piano  may  not  be  money  thrown  away.  But  taking  the 
instrument  for  granted,  that  one  in  the  family  who  has  the  most  musical  skill  and 
ability  should  take  the  lead,  and  gather  the  others  around  the  piano  as  a  centre, 


MUSIC    IN   THE   FAMILY.  139 

and  should  try  to  bring  out,  even  if  most  feebly  at  first,  whatever  talent  is  dormant 
or  cultivated  in  each  one.  The  less  musical  should  be  most  encouraged !  And 
great  gentleness  should  be  used  in  training  and  helping  each.  What  is  a  false 
note  now  and  then,  or  the  failure  to  keep  time,  compared  to  the  serenity  and 
sweetness  that  is  lost  bj^  friction  and  unpleasant,  personal  remarks  ?  Music  evapor- 
ates and  disappears  as  religion  does,  when  the  spirit  is  ruffled  and  hurt.  In  such 
music  as  we  speak  of,  where  no  one  is  a  virtuoso,  there  will  be  imperfection,  and 
it  is  not  a  question  of  faultlessness,  but  of  endeavor.  The  imperfection  must  be 
made  good  by  the  harmony  of  spirit  felt  and  expressed  by  each  attempting  it. 
Certainly  if  the  father  or  the  mother  can  be  the  Choraegus  of  this  house-band,  it 
will  be  most  likely  to  succeed.  But  let  the  leader  be  a  child,  if  he  is  more  com- 
petently gifted.  To  begin  with  singing  some  song  which  is  perhaps  simply  a 
popular  air  is  as  easy  a  way  as  any.  Buying  two  or  three  copies  will  interest  the 
children  to  follow  the  notes.  If  the  means  of  the  family  allow  instruction  for  one  or 
two  of  the  children,  this  will  greatly  serve  to  keep  up  the  interest  from  week  to  week. 

The  chief  benefit,  however,  will  arise  not  so  much  from  absolute  knowledge 
gained  as  from  those  flitting,  beautiful,  elusive  and  mysterious  emotions  which 
fill  a  child's  soul  when  music  is  heard.  These  emotions  form  a  soft  mould  which 
takes  on  and  gives  out  again  lovely  impressions  which  never  can  be  forgotten  or 
erased  from  the  soul.  The  world  of  the  infinite  rises  upon  us  when  we  hear  good 
music,  and  because  a  child  says  nothing  about  it,  and  cannot  and  does  not  give 
expression  to  his  feelings  when  music  surrounds  him  with  its  penetrating  sweet- 
ness, it  is  no  sign  that  he  is  not  receiving  some  magical  power  and  some  soothing 
and  controlling  influence  into  his  inner  being  which  is  to  remain  with  him  through 
life  as  a  sweetener  and  a  comforter.  The  associations  of  the  young  should  be 
with  the  bright  and  innocent  and  joyous  things  of  life.  If  these  speaking  im- 
pressions of  something  supersensuously  beautiful  are  not  presented  to  the  mind  in 
childhood,  they  may  never  exist  at  all.  And,  indeed,  the  lack  of  such  early  and 
delicious  impressions  may  account  for  the  imperviousness  of  many  in  later  life  to 
the  pure  sense  of  beauty,  and  the  witchery  and  mystery  of  the  emotional  world. 

The  finer  qualities  of  the  spirit  need  (in  this  hardening  world)  constant  culti- 
vation. We  cannot  begin  too  earlj'-  with  our  children  to  provide  that  which  shall 
evoke  the  diviner  and  more  subtle  part  of  their  nature.  We  must  give  them  a  true 
sense  of  gentleness  by  that 

"  Music  that  gentlier  on  the  spirit  lies 
Than  tired  eyelids  upon  tired  eyes." 

The  pervasive,  all-enfolding  resonance  of  noble  music  may  give  a  deeper  con- 
ception of  the  ever-present  being  of  God  than  many  words.  Infinity  itself  may 
surge  into  a  verj'  young  spirit  on  the 


I40  MUSIC   IN   THE   FAMILY. 

"  Tides  of  music's  golden  sea 
Setting  toward  eternity." 

We  know  not  which  one  of  our  children  or  youth  is  to  be  "  the  reed  through 
which  all  things  blow  into  music. ' '     His  musical  director  said  of  Lanier: 

"  To  him  as  a  child,  in  his  cradle,  music  was  given — the  heavenly  gift  to  feel 
and  to  express  himself  in  tones.  His  human  nature  was  like  an  enchanted  instru- 
ment, needing  but  a  breath  or  a  touch  to  send  its  beauty  out  into  the  world.  It 
was,  indeed,  irresistible  that  he  should  turn,  with  those  poetical  feelings  which 
transcend  language  to  the  penetrating  gentleness  of  the  flute,  or  the  infinite 
passion  of  the  violin." 

The  dormant  and  the  latent  must  be  awakened  by  placing  our  children  in  the 
environment  to  educe  that  to  which  their  higher  and  finer  nature  will  respond. 
And  the  love  of  music  is  too  heavenly  a  gift  to  lie  in  lasting  sleep  within  our 
children  for  want  of  a  home  surcharged  with  the  sweetness  of  loving  and  life- 
jiving  family  music. — Mrs.  Merrill  E.   Gates. 


-V-;>  ,•■■',;.. -^  v\      ^^r',. 


MRS.  LOUIS  KLOPSCH  AND  HER  DAUGHTER  MARY. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  First  Baby. 

HE  coming  of  the  first  little  one  marks  an  event  of  great  import- 
ance in  family  history'.  During  the  months  which  precede 
the  baby's  arrival  the  mother  must  of  necessity  undergo  am 
f''G)^  amount  of  self-denial  and  seclusion,  which  are  really  no  sacri- 
fices in  the  eye  of  a  loving  and  conscientious  wife  and  mother- 
to-be,  for  surely  it  is  true  that  beyond  all  other  women  in  the 
world  she  is  blessed  to  whom  is  sent  from  heaven  the  gift  of  a  little 
child  to  be  her  very  own. 
The  reluctance  which  married  women  sometimes  feel  and  express  to  assuming 
the  duties  of  maternity  is  not  to  be  explained  on  any  ground  except  that  of 
singular  afcd  unwomanly  selfishness,  unless,  indeed,  they  fear  to  bring  into  the 
world  a  child  inheriting  morbid  and  diseased  tendencies.  In  a  case  where  there  is 
•danger  of  this  sort  the  husband  and  wife  should  have  considered  very  solemnly 
whether  or  not  they  had  a  right  to  marry,  because  it  is  a  crime  to  deliberately 
bring  into  the  world  beings  who  will  be  freighted  with  evil  tendencies,  or 
•compelled  to  bear  in  their  bodies  sorrow  and  sickness  all  their  days. 

Persons  closely  related  to  one  another  by  ties  of  blood  and  kinship,  as,  for 
instance,  first  cousins;  persons  of  scrofulous  tendencies  or  with  a  disposition  to 
insanity  latent  in  their  blood,  should  not  marry.  They  should  have  the  courage 
to  say,  ' '  This  great  evil  which  I  unfortunately  have  inherited  shall  die  with  me; 
I  will  not  be  a  partner  to  prolonging  so  great  a  burden  in  the  race."  Granting, 
however,  that  parents  are  strong  and  healthy,  they  should  not  feel  a  hesitation 
about  any  obligation  which  the  married  state  involves.  The  birth  of  offspring  is 
one  of  the  obligations  to  which  people  become  liable  when  they  fall  in  love  and 
marry. 

During  the  nine  months  in  which  the  mother  carries  her  little  one  as  a 
precious  trust  under  her  heart  she  is  in  a  sense  a  sanctuary.  She  should  be  care- 
ful to  guard  herself  from  any  violent  outbreaks  of  passion,  and  above  all  things 
from  anger  and  fear.  For  the  sake  of  the  little  one  who  is  coming  she  should  let 
her  speech  be  gentle,  her  mind  peaceful,  and  she  should  remember  that  the  whole 
future  of  her  infant  may  depend  on  the  mental  state  in  which  she  is  usually  found 
•during  the  earlier  portion  of  her  pregnancy. 


142  THE   FIRST    BABY. 

A  mother  is  sometimes  in  her  early  youth  too  ignorant  to  know  that  she  may 
almost  make  or  mar  her  child's  future  in  this  early  time,  and  yet  this  is  true.  I 
remember  hearing  a  wise  elderly  woman  once  say  to  a  friend  whose  first  baby  was 
expected:  "  My  dear,  if  you  wish  by  and  by  to  have  peaceful  days  and  nights 
take  all  the  quiet  rest  you  can  at  this  time.     Do  not  suffer  yourself  to  be  nervous. 


FIRST  BABV. 

or  to  be  fluttering  here  and  there  and  getting  tired.  Take  all  the  exercise  yoti 
comfortably  can,  but  remember  that  if  you  wish  to  have  a  quiet  little  one,  who 
will  be  a  real  comfort  to  5'ou  during  his  baby  days,  you  must  provide  beforehand 
for  this  sort  of  disposition." 

The  mother,  too,  must  be  careful  about  the  food  she  eats.     If,  for  instance, 
she  refuses  all  meats  and  vegetables,  and  lives  exclusively  on  fruits  and  salads  and 


THE    FIRST   BABY.      ~  143 

stimulants  in  the  way  of  tea  and  coffee,  her  child  will  come  into  the  world  physi- 
cally weak — very  probably  plump  and  well-formed,  but  with  soft  limbs  which  have 
not  in  them  enough  quality  of  vigor  to  make  the  baby  well  either  during  its 
infancy  or  in  its  later  life. 

Very  many  of  the  disturbances  which  are  trying  to  the  mother  during  her 
pregnancy  may  be  overcome  by  care  on  her  part  and  patient  discipline  of  her 
system.  For  instance,  the  nausea  which  is  a  distressing  symptom  in  the  morning 
during  the  first  three  months  usually  disappears  at  the  end  of  that  time.  Very 
often  it  can  be  overcome  by  simply  taking  a  cracker  and  some  warm  drink  before 
rising,  or  by  the  persistent  use  of  lemonade  or  some  other  remed}^  which  a  physi- 
cian will  advise.  The  physique  of  a  healthy  woman  accommodates  itself  to  the 
new  state  of  affairs,  and  usually  after  the  first  few  weeks  there  is  not  very  much 
trouble  or  pain  to  be  borne,  but  it  is  wise  for  an  expectant  mother  to  place  herself 
early  under  the  care  of  her  physician,  and  from  time  to  time  to  have  advice,  so 
that  she  may  go  through  the  months  which  precede  her  baby's  coming  with  a 
quiet  mind  and  a  body  somewhat  at  ease. 

American  families  are  unfortunately  growing  smaller  and  smaller.  Where 
once  people  had  from  six  to  ten  children  they  are  now  contented  with  two  or 
three,  and  these  at  long  intervals.  Yet  there  is  no  sight  in  the  world  so  beautiful 
as  that  of  a  large  family,  and  a  crowded  nursery  is  not  unlike  a  crowded  nest 
with  the  little  fledglings  close  together  under  the  mother's  brooding  wing.  The 
children,  when  they  come  at  shorter  intervals,  really  help  the  mother  in  bringing 
each  other  up,  and  even  if  it  means  for  some  few  years  a  time  of  greater  struggle 
to  the  parents,  the  large  family  usually  turns  out  quite  as  well  in  the  end  as  the 
smaller  one. 

In  sewing  for  the  little  one  who  comes  to  your  care  there  are  certain  necessary 
articles  which  the  loving  prevision  of  the  mother  will  prepare,  but  an  immense 
outfit  of  baby  clothes  is  by  no  means  necessary.  Everything  which  a  baby  wears 
may  be  bought  in  our  large  shops,  but  where  the  mother  can  make  the  little  gar- 
ments herself  she  will  take  pleasure  in  having  an  additional  daintiness  about  them, 
and  they  will  cost  her  very  much  less  than  if  she  simply  sends  an  order  to  a  mer- 
chant. Besides,  handmade  clothing  is  always  more  beautiful  and  gives  more 
satisfaction — at  least  in  garments  for  little  wearers — than  that  which  is  made  by 
machine,  if  only  as  a  matter  of  sentiment. 

The  baby's  first  garments  will  include  six  little  bands  of  soft  flannel,  which 
will  be  simply  laid  over  and  feather-stitched  at  the  edges — a  hem  is  apt  to  make  a 
hard  place  which  may  hurt  the  delicate  skin  of  a  baby;  six  little  undershirts  which 
open  in  front,  and  which  may  be  either  of  silk  and  wool  or  of  wool  and  cotton, 
are  the  next  necessity.  Four  of  these  may  be  very  small,  and  two  of  a  larger  size 
to  allow  for  the  baby's  growth.      What  is  called  a  little  barrow  coat  is  also  a 


(i44) 


"The  coining  of  the  first  little  one  marks  an  event  of  great  importance." 


THE   FIRST   BABY.  145 

necessity.  This  is  a  flannel  skirt  which  is  fastened  to  a  muslin  band  and  which 
opens  in  front.  Two  of  these  at  least  are  requisite.  There  niust  be  a  supply — 
several  dozen  at  least — of  soft  linen  and  cotton  diapers,  and  one  dozen  of  these 
should  be  made  of  old  linen  table  cloths  or  something  of  that  sort,  as  they  are  soft 
and  absorbent.  Do  not  use  a  rubber  napkin  upon  a  baby;  it  is  better  to  be  watchful 
and  change  the  diapers  frequently. 

Little  socks  are  so  pretty  and  dainty  that  every  mother  will  require  a  supply 
of  them  for  the  little  feet  at  first,  and  almost  always  friends  like  to  give  tkese  as 
presents.  The  same  may  be  said  about  the  dainty  little  knitted  and  crocheted 
sacks,  which  finish  prettily  a  baby's  dress.  The  supply  of  slips  and  skirts  which 
are  prepared  for  the  little  one  will  depend  on  the  mother's  time  and  her  purse. 
Not  very  many  are  needed,  nor  should  they  be  very  long.  A  beautiful  embroid- 
ered christening  robe  is  often  an  heirloom  in  a  family,  and  is  passed  from  mother 
to  children.  I  know  one  family  in  which  all  the  grandchildren  have  been  chris- 
tened in  the  robe  in  which  their  grandmother  received  upon  her  brow  the  drops 
from  the  baptismal  font. 

One  thing  is  over  all  essential,  that  your  little  one  comes  to  a  home  hallowed 
by  love  and  fragrant  with  prayer.  Be  glad  that  your  baby  is  coming.  L,et  it  be 
bom  into  an  atmosphere  of  Christian  love,  of  Christian  influence.  Make  up  your 
mind  from  the  first  that  it  is  a  gift  of  God,  and  that  you  cannot  be  too  joyful  to 
receive  this  gift  from  His  hands. 

The  first  weeks  of  a  baby's  life  should  be  spent  in  a  dim,  hushed  world.  The 
baby  needs  sleep,  and  must  have  it  in  abundant  measure.  The  principal  requisites 
at  this  time  are  that  the  little  thing  shall  be  kept  warm  and  comfortable,  shall  be 
fed  at  regular  intervals,  and  shall  be  allowed  to  lie  in  his  own  little  cradle  and  not 
be  continually  held  in  people's  arms  and  jumped  and  bounced  about  or  passed 
from  hand  to  hand.  Care  taken  during  the  first  few  weeks  to  be  very  regular 
in  the  treatment  and  management  of  a  little  baby  will  make  it  much  easier  for 
him  and  his  parents  when  he  begins  to  develop,  to  feel  his  little  feet,  and  to 
realize  that  although  he  has  no  language  but  a  cry,  j^et  that  by  crying  he  can  get 
what  he  wants. 

The  old-fashioned  way  was  to  dose  a  baby  with  catnip  tea  and  other  reme- 
dies, to  feed  him  whenever  he  cried,  to  carry  him  up  and  down,  to  and  fro,  and 
in  every  possible  way  to  make  of  him  a  little  tyrant.  All  this  was  not  to  baby's 
permanent  advantage  nor  at  all  to  the  comfort  of  those  who  had  to  care  for  him. 
The  modern  method  of  doing  ever3^tliing  according  to  rule,  of  refraining  from 
injudicious  over-loading  of  the  tiny  stomach,  and  of  keeping  the  baby  warm  and 
quiet  is  very  much  better.  From  quite  an  early  period  the  little  creature  may 
be  taken  out  every  day  into  the  open  air.  The  healthiest  babe  I  ever  saw  lived 
in  the  open  air  all  the  time,  its  carriage  standing  out  of  doors  in  all  but  extremely 


(146) 


HAPPY    CHII.DHOOD   DAYS. 


THE   FIRST   BABY.  147 

stormy  weather,  and  the  little  inmate  taking  its  naps  in  the  fresh  air  and  being 
kept  as  much  as  possible  out  of  the  house. 

The  nurser3^  world  should  be  a  tranquil  one.  Loud  tones,  scolding,  all 
sudden  violent  explosions,  such  as  the  slamming  of  doors,  screaming,  and  things 
of  that  kind,  should  be  kept  away  from  this  enchanted  spot.  Too  strong  light 
should  not  be  suffered  to  fall  upon  a  baby's  eyes.  Mothers  sometimes,  in  their 
desire  to  have  a  pretty  perambulator  for  their  little  ones,  forget  that  a  glaring 
white  sunshade  is  not  at  all  the  thing,  and  that  a  hooded  carriage  somewhat  dark- 
ened with  green  or  blue  would  be  very  much  better  to  keep  away  the  sunlight. 

The  mother  cannot  too  sedulously  care  for  her  little  one  herself.  Even  if  she 
employs  a  nurse  she  must  herself  take  the  supervision;  no  hired  hands  can  be 
trusted  wholly,  how'ever  responsible  they  may  be.  This  little  being  may  owe  all 
its  health,  happiness  and  usefulness  in  the  world  to  the  constant  tender  care  it 
x'eceives  in  babyhood.  I  have  known  a  mother  to  find  out  when  too  late  that  an 
unscrupulous  nurse  had  night  after  night  put  sleeping  drops  into  the  baby's  milk> 
so  that  she  would  not  be  disturbed  nor  her  rest  broken  by  his  stirring  in  his  sleep. 
The  result  in  the  deadening  of  sensibility,  in  impaired  nerve  force  and  lessened 
vitality  could  not  be  reckoned  perhaps  until  manhood,  but  all  the  same  nature 
would  make  its  reprisals. 

It  is  quite  as  well  that  little  children  should  not  be  indiscriminately  kissed. 
Of  course  every  one  wishes  to  kiss  a  baby,  but  it  is  not  for  the  child's  best  good 
that  it  should  be  thus  brought  into  close  touch  with  all  sorts  of  lips,  and  the  wise 
mother  will  prefer  to  forbid  too  much  kissing  on  the  little  rose-leaf  face.  "  Hands 
off!"  is  a  good  rule  for  babies  and  for  small  children. 

Baby,  my  baby,  I  love  you  so, 

I  cannot  be  sad  whatever  winds  blow. 

For  you  are  safe  in  my  cradling  arms, 

And  nought  shall  come  near  that  my  baby  harms. 

Hush,  my  babe,  lie  still  and  slumber 
Holy  angels  guard  thy  bed, 
Heavenly  blessings  without  number 
Gently  falling  on  thy  head. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Nursery  Group. 

FHEN  instead  of  one  beloved  child  the  mother  has  around  her  several 
little  ones  of  different  ages,  there  is  nothing  more  beautiful  in  the 
world  than  the  sight  of  the  children  growing  up.     In  the  morning 
when  they  rise  flushed  and  rosy  from  their  happy  sleep,  all  day  as 
they  play,  at  night  when  they  are  taken  away  to  rest,  the  mother 
may  be  tired,  but  she  is  happy;  her  little  ones  are  under  her  eye  and 
hand;  she  can  attend  to  their  bathing,  dressing,    and  watch   their 
development  day  by  day. 

Nothing  ever  seems  so  wonderful,  almost  miraculous,  as  the  rapid  improve- 
ment of  children  from  the  hour  they  begin  to  make  sounds  until  they  talk 
plainly.  Their  vocabularies  grow  as  if  by  magic.  A  little  child  can  learn  without 
difl&culty  several  languages  at  once.  A  baby  of  eighteen  months  or  two  years 
will  acquire  French  and  German  and  English  all  at  the  same  time,  and  the 
■different  words  do  not  seem  to  jostle  in  the  little  brain.  All  this,  however,  must 
come  naturally.  Children  are  imitative  creatures  and  they  prattle  as  the  birds 
learn  to  sing;  they  copy  without  apparent  effort  the  tones  of  the  voice,  the  accent, 
and  the  words  of  those  about  them. 

A  little  child  who  can  hear  easily  learns  to  talk,  and  in  most  cases  the  period 
of  baby  talk  and  broken  speech  which  some  persons  so  much  admire  will  be  very 
m"Uch  abbreviated  if  people  simply  use  ordinary  grown-up  speech  in  talking  with 
the  nursery  group.  For  my  part,  I  think  it  much  more  attractive  and  interesting 
to  hear  a  quaint  little  maiden  or  laddie  speaking  correct  English  than  using  a 
jargon  which  nobody  can  understand. 

The  moral  education  of  children  begins  very  early,  and  they  can  be  taught 
to  give  up  their  little  playthings  to  one  another,  to  share  their  pleasures,  to  refrain 
from  the  angry  frown  or  demonstration  of  violence  in  the  way  of  kicking  or 
slapping,  if  all  around  them  there  is  an  environment  of  gentleness.  When  a 
child  falls  and  bumps  his  head  on  the  floor,  it  is  the  foolish  mother  who  runs  and 
beats  the  floor.  The  wise  mother  diverts  the  child  and  makes  light  of  the  little 
tumble.  It  is  the  more  than  foolish — it  is  the  wicked — mother  who  teaches  the 
little  child  by  example  and  speech  to  be  afraid  of  a  poor  innocent  worm,  to  go 
into  spasms  at  the  sight  of  a  mouse,  or  in  any  way  to  show  symptoms  of  terror. 

(148) 


THE   NURSERY   GROUP. 


149 


In  every  possible  manner  we  should  teach  children  to  be  strong  and  bold,  and  not 
to  go  through  the  world  tied  down  by  bonds  of  graven  fear.  Early  impressions 
are  very  enduring,  and  the  foundation  for  much  nervous  terror  and  distress  may 
be  laid  by  unwise  parents  in  the  years  of  babyhood.  Let  the  little  child  fear 
nothing.  Surround  it  with  kindness,  let  its  play  be  unselfish,  and  from  the  first 
try  to  inculcate  the  golden  rule. 


■  When  instead  of  oue  beloved  child  the  mother  has  several  little  ones." 

After  the  child  reaches  the  age  of  four  years  the  kindergarten  will  prove  an 
excellent  assistant  to  the  mother.  If  there  be  no  kindergarten  to  which  she  can 
send  her  little  child  or  children,  the  mother  will  do  well  to  supply  herself  with  a 
kindergarten  magazine  and  with  some  of  the  games  which  the  little  ones  use  in 
that  loveliest  of  nursery  schools.      Children  who   are  taught  in  kindergarten? 


ISO 


THE   NURSERY   GROUP. 


before  going  to  the  primary  school  have  their  perceptive  faculties  trained,  and 
although  reading  and  writing  form  no  part  of  kindergarten  instruction,  j'et  they 
reach  these  useful  studies  in  a  state  of  preparation  which  is  not  to  be  found  among 
children  who  have  not  had  kindergarten  advantages.  The  pricking  patterns  into 
paper  with  pins,  moulding  and  modeling  in  cla}',  and  the  various  occupations  of 
the  kindergarten  employ  the  little  hands,  while  the  plays  and  games  are  really 
educational  and  the  child  learns  without  knowing  it.  Then  the  little  children  are 
taught  truth,  kindness,  love  and  generosity,  and  their  manners  insensibly  take  on 


IN   THE    NURSERV. 

a  stamp  of  goodness.     They  learn  many  little  facts  about  natural  history,  and 
are  prepared  unconsciously  for  the  school-room  at  a  later  date. 

The  bed-time  of  little  children  should  be  a  very  happy  hour.  Never  should 
a  little  head  be  laid  upon  the  pillow  except  peacefully;  and  the  habit  of  some 
mothers  of  going  over  the  faults  of  the  day  and  reproving  or  punishing  the 
children  at  bed-time  is  a  serious  blunder,  not  far  from  a  crime.  The  tender 
mother  tucks  the  little  ones  in  with  gentle  hands,  hears'them  say  their  prayers, 
and  sends  them  off  to  dreamland  happy  and  glad.  Among  the  little  prayers 
appropriate  for  children  to  say  at  night  none  surpass  the  familiar 


THE   NURSERY   GROUP.        ,  151 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep, 
If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take; 
And  this  I  ask  for  Jesus' sake.     Amen." 

There  is  a  little  morning  prayer  corresponding  to  this: 

' '  Now  I  wake  and  see  the  light, 
'Tis  God  who  kept  me  through  the  night; 
To  Him  I  lift  my  voice  and  pray 
That  He  will  keep  me  through  the  day, 
For  Jesus'  sake." 

Children  can  appropriately  learn  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  have  whatever  other 
religious  instruction  their  parents  choose  to  give  them.  Do  not  postpone  the  time 
of  indoctrinating  children  into  the  creed  of  your  life.  Before  the  child  is  six 
years  old  he  is  made  or  marred  for  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  Little  children  early 
taught  about  God  and  duty,  and  the  simple  things  which  every  child  should  know, 
receive  them  into  honest  hearts  where  doubt  has  not  yet  intruded.  They  will  not 
be  turned  in  after  days  from  the  faith  of  the  fathers  if  this  faith  is  taught  them 
carefully  at  a  sufficiently  early  age. 

Children  are  educated  more  than  we  sometimes  think  by  their  little  play- 
mates. A  grandmother  seated  one  day  at  her  sewing  heard  the  conversation  of 
two  little  tots  behind  the  screen  in  the  room.  One  said  to  the  other,  "  To-morrow 
will  be  Good  Friday. "  "  What  is  that  ? ' '  was  the  inquiry.  In  reply  the  first  child 
said,  "  Why,  don't  you  know  ?  It  is  the  day  when  our  blessed  Lord  died  upon  the 
cross  for  our  sins,  and  all  Christians  go  to  church  on  Good  Friday  and  remember 
how  the  Saviour  gave  Himself  for  them. "  "Oh,"  said  the  other  child,  "  I  never 
heard  about  it;  do  tell  me."  And  so  as  they  sat  over  their  play  the  one  child  told 
the  other  the  story  of  the  Lamb  of  God  who  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world. 

There  is  often  implanted  in  childish  minds  some  thought  which  you  would 
not  desire  to  have  there.  Especially  as  children  grow  older  they  learn  things 
which  are  impure  from  children  who  have  not  been  carefully  trained;  and  the  sum 
of  the  matter  is  that  a  mother  should  know  who  her  children's  playmates  and 
associates  are.  Do  not  select  them  chiefly  or  even  at  all  on  the  ground  simply  of 
their  being  well  dressed.  The  little  ragged  boy  or  girl  may  not  prove  so  unfit  an 
associate  for  your  child  as  another  royally  clad  little  creature  who  has  been 
neglected. 

One  of  the  saddest  stories  I  ever  knew  was  of  a  little  girl  who  lived  in  a  large 
boarding  house,  and  whose  parents  seemed  to  care  nothing  for  her.  They  went 
away  every  day  on  their  own  pleasures,  leaving  her  by  herself  to  roam  about  the 


(152) 


Now  I  lay  me  do-\vn  to  sleep." 


THE   NURSERY  GROUP.  153 

halls  and  parlors  and  find  such  care  as  she  could  from  strangers  in  the  house  or 
from  maids.  One  day  she  said  to  a  friend  of  mine,  ' '  I  wish  my  papa  and  mamma 
cared  for  me,  but  I  never  go  near  them  that  they  do  not  say,  '  Run  away,  dear, 
don't  bother  me.'  "  At  last  little  "  run  away,  dear"  did  not  bother  them  any 
more,  for  she  sickened  and  died,  and  they  followed  her  little  hearse  to  the  cemetery. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  no  more  children  came  to  those  cruel  people  to  be  thus 
shamefully  neglected 


With  flare  of  trumpet  and  roll  of  drum, 

Tho'  never  a  stick  have  we, 

And  never  a  horn  save  a  dimpled  hand — 
A  roistering,  rollicking,  warlike  band, 

Right  valorous  soldiers  three. 

Our  line  of  march  through  the  parlor  dim. 

And  out  to  the  open  hall, 

A  step  and  a  stamp  and  a  fearless  stride — 
And  a  paper-knife  strapped  to  each  valiant  side. 

Then  way  !  we  are  heroes  all. 

Shall  it  be  a  charge  on  the  rocking-chair? 

Or  a  siege  of  the  balustrade  ? 

Or  a  slow,  strategical  night-attack 

On  the  castle  walls  of  the  old  hat-rack. 

Or  merely  a  dress  parade  ? 

'Tis  one  I  vow  to  the  soldiers  three, 

Polly  and  Prue  and  I, 

With  never  a  horn  save  a  dimpled  hand. 
We'll  march  all  over  this  Downstairs  Land 

Till  the  stars  peep  out  in  the  sky, 

And  the  moon  says  bed- time's  nigh. 

— Charles  Edward  Thomas. 


CHAPTER  XXL 


Going  to  School. 

TURN  in  memory  with  a  sort  of  wistful  and  loving  thought  to  the 
first  school  I  ever  attended.  It  was  a  little  red  schoolhouse  in 
the  country,  and  it  stood  on  a  hillside  under  spreading  trees. 
Whittier  has  described  a  similar  place  in  his  well-known  poem, 

' '  Still  sits  the  schoolhouse  by  the  road, 
A  ragged  beggar  sunning." 

The  teacher's  desk  and  chair  stood  in  one  corner,  and  the 
children  of  all  ages  sat  before  him,  from  little  rosy -cheeked  tots  of 
five  or  six  up  to  young  men  and  women.  I  remember  my  triumph  or|^  day  when 
a  very  small  child  I  was  told  to  go  up  head  because  I  had  known  how  to  spell 
"measles"  when  all  the  others  had  missed  it;  and  I  remember,  too,  how  we 
used  to  play  out  of  doors  on  broad  stones  beside  the  brook,  where  we  had  our  oak- 
leaf  cups  and  saucers  and  ate  our  luncheons  in  the  middle  of  the  day  with  a  zest 
which  no  appetite  of  later  years  has  surpassed.  That  school  is  a  dim  and  distant 
dream. 

Much  better  do  I  remember  the  beautiful  seminary-  for  young  ladies  which  I 
attended  when  somewhat  older — a  long,  low  building  which  stood  on  the  banks  of 
the  beautiful  Passaic  River.  Here  three  women,  long  since  gone  to  heaven, 
presided  over  a  most  excellent  school.  We  called  them  Miss  Anna,  Miss  Lizzie 
and  Miss  Jane,  and  early  in  the  mornings  the  children  gathered  in  groups  before 
the  door,  ready  to  enter  when  Miss  Anna,  coming  there  with  a  little  silver  bell  in 
her  hand,  gently  rang  it  and  called  us  in.  Some  of  the  lessons  taught  in  that 
school  abide  with  me  still  and  always  will.  Our  desks  were  green,  and  as  we  sat 
by  them  we  could  look  out  upon  the  river  and  see  its  pleasant  life. 

Once  a  furious  thunder  storm  came,  and  many  of  the  children  were  fright- 
ened, but  the  young  teacher  told  us  to  put  aside  our  books,  and  we  turned  and 
sang  with  her  a  German>-hymn, 

"  It  thunders,  but  I  tremble  not, 
My  trust  is  firm  in  God, 
His  arm  of  strength  I  ever  sought 
Through  all  the  way  I've  trod." 

(154) 


GOING  TO   SCHOOL.  155 

Another  favorite  hymn  which  we  often  sang  at  the  opening  of  school  was, 

"  I'm  a  pilgrim,  and  I'm  a  stranger, 
I  can  tarry,  I  can  tarry  but  a  night." 

We  were  obliged  at  the  end  cf  the  day  to  give  in  our  own  reports,  and  the 
Toll  being  called,  each  scholar  frankly  stated  her  marks  for  the  day,  whether  she 
had  been  perfect  or  imperfect  in  lessons  or  in  behavior.  We  were  thus  put  upon 
honor,  and  a  very  good  lesson  was  inculcated,  because  any  child  in  that  school 
would  have  been  ashamed   to  be  untruthful.     I  still  have  some  of  the  little  cer- 


THE  SCHOOr,-ROOM. 

tificates  for  good  conduct  which  it  was  my  proud  privilege  to  take  home  at  the 
end  of  the  term,  setting  forth  in  the  delicate  writing  of  Miss  Jane  what  my  stand- 
ing had  been  during  the  term  just  ended.  These  were  written  on  note  paper, 
with  a  beautiful  lace-like  edge,  not  unlike  our  modern  valentines. 

The  choice  of  a  school  is  a  very  important  thing.     In  these  days,  when 
graded  schools  and  excellent  public  schools  abound  in  cities,  many  parents  at 


156  GOING   TO  SCHOOI.. 

once  send  their  children  there.  There  is,  however,  a  choice  among  these,  and  a 
choice  also  between  public  and  private  schools.  For  some  children  the  smaller 
private  school  is  far  better  during  the  first  years,  and  where  parents  can  afford  to 
pay  for  their  children's  tuition,  they  should  hesitate  long  before  sending  a  little 
child  into  the  crowded  classroom  where  one  j^oung  teacher  is  obliged  to  train  as 
many  as  fifty  or  sixty  children,  which  frequently  happens  in  our  large  cities. 
This  objection  of  overcrowding  does  not  exist  to  so  great  an  extent  in  grammar 
as  in  primar}'  schools. 

It  is  of  course  always  much  better  that  a  child  should  attend  school  than  that 
he  or  she  should  stay  at  home,  but  individualism  is  the  thing  to  be  sought  in  early 
education.  Try  to  keep  as  much  as  possible  in  touch  with  the  teachers  while  your 
child  is  under  their  care.  There  should  be  no  strife  between  teachers  and  parents. 
Both  have  at  heart  very  strongly  the  good  of  the  little  ones,  and  the  conscien- 
tious teacher  desires  nothing  so  much  as  that  the  child  shall  improve  in  knowl- 
edge and  wisdom;  and  to  this  end  the  co-operation  of  the  parents  is  extremely 
necessary. 

If  children  have  lessons  to  learn  at  home  the  parents  should  see  that  they  are 
prepared  in  time,  but  no  parent  should  without  protest  allow  her  child  to  have  so 
much  school  work  to  do  at  home  that  his  hours  of  recreation  or  of  sleep  are 
infringed  upon.     Both  are  essential  to  a  growing  child. 

The  school  luncheon,  too,  is  a  very  important  thing.  Where  the  school  is  so 
near  home  that  a  child  may  at  the  noon  hour  have  a  hot  meal  at  the  mother's 
table  the  situation  is  ideal,  but  distance  often  makes  this  impossible.  Mrs.  Van 
de  Water,  writing  in  Harper' s  Bazar  on  this  subject,  gives  mothers  some  excellent 
hints  which  do  not  come  amiss  here  : 

"  The  school  luncheon  is  a  matter  upon  which  the  girl  and  her  mother  find  it 
difficult  to  agree.  The  desire  that  her  child  shall  eat  nourishing  digestible  food 
leads  the  parent  to  firown  upon  such  indigestible  and  toothsome  dainties  as  tarts, 
fruit  cake,  doughnuts  and  crullers.  Too  often  when  the  girl's  lunch  box  does  not 
contain  that  which  her  sweet  tooth  craves,  her  mid-day  '  snack  '  is  supplemented 
by  a  piece  of  pie  from  the  nearest  baker's,  or  by  a  handful  of  nuts  and  raisins 
from  the  corner  grocery,   which  are  indeed  \^xy  indigestible. 

"  The  mother  and  daughter  should  learn  that,  to  be  digestible,  an  article  of 
food  must  not  of  necessity  be  unpalatable,  and  that  there  are  many  things  that 
do  good  and  taste  good.  One  can  fully  sympathize  with  the  rebellion  of  the  girl 
whose  lunch  for  five  days  of  each  school- week  last  winter  consisted  of  three  thick 
slices  of  buttered  Graham  bread  and  what  Miss  Woolson  calls  '  a  large,  cold  apple. ' 
We  understand  how  even  the  healthy  young  appetite  revolted  at  this  fare,  so  that 
the  mother  was  informed  that  if  the  lunch  box  must  contain  Graham  bread  and 
apples,  or  nothing,'  the  owner  '  would  prefer  nothing.' 


IN   SCHOOL   DAYS.  157 

' '  A  little  forethought  and  planning  on  the  part  of  the  mother  will  lead  to  a 
vast  improvement  in  the  contents  of  her  daughter's  lunch  box.  Among  the  many- 
articles  of  food  which  can  be  readily  transported  to  school  come,  first  of  all  sand- 
wiches. These  are  of  so  many  varieties  that  one  cannot  weary  of  them.  In  days 
of  old  the  filling  for  these  popular  dainties  usually  was  of  ham,  tongue,  cold 
chicken,  or  cold  meat.  Now  fish,  flesh  and  fowl,  vegetables  and  fruit,  are  used  in 
their  preparation. 

' '  Salmon  sandwiches  are  easily  made  and  eagerly  eaten  by  the  average  school- 
girl. They  are  of  Graham  bread,  cut  very  thin,  and  spread  with  cold  boiled 
salmon  which  has  been  picked  fine  then  rubbed  to  a  soft  paste  with  salad-oil,  the 
yolk  of  an  egg,  a  little  lemon  juice  and  salt  and  pepper.  This  mixture  is  made 
particularly  delicious  by  the  addition  of  a  few  chopped  olives,  and  will  be  keenly 
relished. 

"Although  the  girl  in  her  teens  seems  to  cherish  a  prejudice  against  sensible, 
nourishing  food,  she  may  be  persuaded  to  eat  sandwiches  made  of  whole  wheat 
bread  cut  into  waferlike  thinness,  and  delicate  slices  of  rare  roast  beef  spread 
lightly  with  French  mustard  or  with  cream  horseradish. 

' '  Occasionally  in  the  lunch  box  can  be  put  a  joint  of  cold  roast  chicken  or  a 
slice  of  turkey.  As  the  meal  taken  during  the  noon  recess  cannot  be  hot,  it 
should  be  as  nourishing  and  tasteful  as  maternal  love  and  ingenuity  can  make  it. 
In  some  schools  hot  chocolate  can  be  bought  by  the  scholars  at  noon.  Our  girl 
must  be  urged  to  drink  this  with  the  lunch  she  brings  from  home.  The  desire  for 
sweets  after  eating  is  a  natural  craving  of  the  stomach,  to  satisfy  which  plain  cake, 
cookies  and  fruits  of  various  kinds  may  be  supplied.  Pastries,  rich  cakes,  fried 
sweets,  nuts  and  raisins  are  as  much  out  of  place  in  the  lunch  box  as  in  the 
stomach  of  a  growing,  studying  girl." 


In  School  Days. 

Still  sits  the  schoolhouse  by  the  road, 
A  ragged  beggar,  sunning; 

Around  it  still  the  sumachs  grow. 
And  blackberry  vines  are  running. 

Within,  the  master's  desk  is  seen. 
Deep  scarred  by  raps  official, 

The  warping  floor,  the  battered  seats. 
The  iackknife's  carved  initial. 


158  IN   SCHOOL   DAYS. 

Long  years  ago  a  winter  sun 
Shone  over  it  at  setting; 

Lit  up  its  western  window-panes, 
And  low  eaves'  icy  fretting. 

It  touched  the  tangled,  golden  curls. 
And  brown  eyes  full  of  grieving. 

Of  one  who  still  her  steps  delayed 
When  all  the  school  were  leaving. 

For  near  her  stood  the  little  boy 
Her  childish  favor  singled; 

His  cap  pulled  low  upon  a  face 

Where  pride  and  shame  were  mingled. 


He  saw  her  lift  her  eyes;  he  felt 
The  soft  hand's  light  caressing. 

And  heard  the  tremble  of  her  voice, 
As  if  a  fault  confessing. 

I'm  sorry  that  I  spelt  the  word; 

I  hate  to  go  above  j'ou, 
Because," — ^the  brown  eyes  lower  fell, — 
"  Because,  you  see,  I  love  j'ou  !" 

Still  memory  to  a  gray-haired  man. 
That  sweet  child-face  is  showing; 

Dear  girl !  the  grasses  on  her  grave 
Have  forty  j'ears  been  growing  ! 

He  lives  to  learn,  in  life's  hard  school, 

How  few  who  pass  above  him 
Lament  their  triumph  and  his  loss. 

Like  her, — because  they  love  him. 

—  Whittier, 


THE   OLD  SCHOOLHOUSK.  159 

The  Old  Schoolhouse. 

Set  on  a  rounding  hilltop 

And  weather-stained  and  gray, 
The  little  mountain  schoolhouse 

Looks  down  on  the  lonesome  way. 
No  other  dwelling  is  near  it, 

'Tis  perched  up  there  by  itself, 
Like  some  old  forgotten  chapel 

High  on  a  rocky  shelf. 

In  at  the  cobwebbed  windows 

I  peered,  and  seemed  to  see 
The  face  of  a  sweet  girl  teacher 

Smiling  back  at  me. 
There  was  her  desk  in  the  middle. 

With  benches  grouped  anear, 
Which  fancy  peopled  with  children — 

Grown  up  this  many  a  year 

Rosy  and  sturdy  children 

Trudging  there,  rain  or  shine, 
Eager  to  be  in  their  places 

On  the  very  stroke  of  nine. 
Their  dinners  packed  in  baskets — 

Turnover,  pie  and  cake, 
The  homely  toothsome  dainties 

Old-fashioned  mothers  could  make. 

Where  did  the  little  ones  come  from  ? 

Fields  green  with  aftermath 
Sleep  in  the  autumn  sunshine. 

And  a  narrow  tangled  path 
Creeping  through  brier  and  brushwood 

Leads  down  the  familiar  way ; 
But  where  did  the  children  come  from 

To  this  school  of  yesterday  ? 

Oh,  brown  and  freckled  laddie. 

And  lass  of  the  apple  cheek, 
The  homes  that  sent  you  hither 

Are  few  and  far  to  seek. 


i6o  THE  OLD   SCHOOLHOUSE. 

But  you  climbed  these  steeps  like  squirrels 
That  leap  from  bough  to  bough, 

Nor  cared  for  cloud  or  tempest, 
Nor  minded  the  deep,  soft  snow. 

Blithe  of  heart  and  of  footstep 

You  merrily  took  the  road; 
Life  yet  had  brought  no  shadows. 

Care  yet  had  heaped  no  load. 
And  safe  beneath  lowly  roof-trees 

You  said  your  prayers  at  night, 
And  glad  as  the  birds  in  the  orchard 

Rose  up  with  the  morning  light. 

Gone  is  the  fair  young  teacher; 

The  scholars  come  no  more 
With  shout  and  song  to  greet  her 

As  once,  at  the  swinging  door. 
There  are  gray-haired  men  and  women 

Who  belonged  to  that  childish  band, 
With  troops  of  their  own  around  them 

In  this  sunny  mountain  land. 

The  old  school  stands  deserted 

Alone  on  the  hill  by  itself, 
Much  like  an  outworn  chapel 

That  clings  to  a  rocky  shelf. 
And  the  sentinel  pines  around  it 

In  solemn  beauty  keep 
Their  watch  from  the  flush  of  the  dawning 

Till  the  grand  hills  fall  asleep. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 
The  Spoiled  Child. 

HAT  is  a  spoiled  child,  and  who  is  to  blame  for  his  condi- 
^"~^)  tion  ?  The  first  question  is  easily  answered,  for  few  of  us 
a-re  so  fortunate  as  never  to  have  met  poor  little  speci- 
mens of  a  most  disagreeable  and  unpopular  genus.  The 
spoiled  child  cries  and  whines  and  sulks  and  storms  when 
it  cannot  have  its  own  way.  It  is  stubborn,  greedy  and  sel- 
fish, or  it  is  saucy,  disobedient  and  rude.  All  its  sweet  juvenile 
beauty,  its  pretty  winsomeness  of  babyhood  are  clouded  over  and 
obscureci  because  it  has  been  spoiled,  that  is  to  say,  because  it  has  been  both 
untrained  and  mistrained.  The  pity  of  it  is  the  greater,  that  the  thing  is 
wholly  unnecessar>'.  Coming  to  its  parents  a  wee  bud  of  humanity,  with 
every  trait  in  embryo,  the  baby  is  theirs  to  make  or  to  mar,  to  do  with  abso- 
lutely as  they  will,  and  it  is  one  of  those  blunders  which  are  very  near  being 
crimes,  which  causes  them  to  spoil  it,  either  by  foolish  and  weak  over-petting 
and  indulgence,  or  by  equally  foolish  and  cruel  severity. 

Let  oiie  word  be  said,  which  cannot  be  contradicted.  No  child  is  ever 
siK)iled  by  too  much  love.  Not  love  but  folly,  not  love  but  cowardice,  not  love 
but  laziness  spoils  children. 

But  you.  dear  anxious  mother,  you,  fond  proud  father,  spoilers  though  you 
are.  cannot  always  be  held  responsible  for  the  unhappy  results  in  your  particular 
cases.  Society,  as  you  have  seen  it,  has  helped  along.  American  children  have 
been  too  much  reared  in  public,  too  early  forced,  as  plants  are  forced  in  a  hot-bed. 
Their  lives  are  not  sufficiently  simple. 

We  hear  mothers  asking  babies  of  two-and-a-half  or  three  years,  whether 
they  will  have  this  or  that  dish?  As  if  choice  of  food  should  ever  be  made  by  such 
a  tiny  creature.  We  ask  a  mother  why  her  nursery  brood  are  not  in  bed  and 
asleep  early  in  the  evening,  and  she  smilingly  replies,  "  I  wanted  them  to  goat 
six  o'clock,  but  they  zvotildji't  go  !  "  As  if  they  should  have  been  so  much  as  con- 
sulted !  You  hear  mamma  and  papa  glibly  repeating  the  clever  speeches  of 
Florence,  aged  four,  and  Claude,  aged  six,  while  the  twocherebs  stand  by,  eagerly 
drinking  in  and  enjoying  the  surprise  and  applause  which  gratify  their  vanity. 
As  if  a  child  could  escape  self-consciousness,  whose  ears  heard  these  pleased  and 
proud  connnents  on  his  own  precocity  ! 

II  (i6n 


1 62 


THE  SPOILED   CHILD. 


Children  should  be  children,  not  little  ladies  and  gentlemen,  not  little  puppets 
to  be  displayed  on  a  stage,  and  not  premature  men  and  women.  From  infancy 
they  should  be  taught  obedience  by  gentle  and  loving,  but  consistent  and  patient 
authority.  Harsh  punishments  and  loud  scolding  and  fretful  nagging  are  as  bad 
for  children,  and  as  unnecessary  as  are  inane  and  silly  yielding  to  their  little  whims. 

I  knew  a  baby  of  two  years  who  had  been  so  spoiled  that  he  made  life  a 
burden  for  his  doting  father  and  mother.     One  morning  these  two  grown  up  idiots 


WAITING   FOR   S.\NTA    CLAUS. 


came  down  to  breakfast  completely  worn  out.  Sammy  had  refused  to  remain  in 
his  crib.  He  had  elected  to  pass  the  night  in  their  big  bed.  But  once  there,  the 
diminutive  despot  determined  to  occupy  that  vantage-ground  by  himself,  and  so 
his  mother  took  the  sofa  and  his  father  took  the  floor,  and  thus  the  trio  wore  away 
the  hours  between  midnight  and  the  dawn  of  day.  Was  there  ever  anything  so 
absurd  as  this  performance  of  a  spoiled  child  and  his  complacent  slaves  ? 

A  child  is  none  the  happier  for  being  thus  ruined  in  temper  and  behavior. 
Children  enjoy  a  tranquil  atmosphere.     They  thrive  best  where  they  are  under  a 


THE  SPOILED   CHIIvD. 


163 


loving  rule;  restraint  gently  exercised  is  pleasant  to  them,  and  they  are  entitled 
to  it  as  a  privilege  of  their  period  in  life.  In  the  nursery  and  the  early  school- 
days they  need  few  rules.  To  mind  when  spoken  to,  to  come  when  called  and  to 
tell  the  truth  are  rules  enough.     They  do  not  spoil  themselves.     They  are  not  to 


"what  is  it  father?"  she  asked. 

blame  for  being  either  prigs  or  rebels.     The  work  lies  at  the  door  of  their  mistaken 
parents. 

Now  if  you  have  been  a  sinner  in  this  regard,  don't,  I  beg  of  you,  turn  sud- 
denly around  and  exchange  your  limitless  indulgence  for  a  contrasting  and  far 
more  to  be  avoided  severity.  On  the  whole,  children  are  not  injured  by  a  little 
wholesome  neglect. 


i64  A   FELLOW'S    MOTHER. 

A  Fellow's  Mother. 

"A  fellow's  mother,"  said  Will  the  wise, 
With  his  ros)^  cheeks  and  his  merry  eyes, 
' '  Knows  what  to  do  if  a  fellow  gets  hurt 
By  a  thump  or  a  bruise,  or  a  fall  in  the  dirt. 

"A  fellow's  mother  has  bags  and  strings. 
Rags  and  buttons,  and  lots  of  things; 
No  matter  how  busy  she  is,  she'll  stop 
To  see  how  well  you  can  spin  your  top. 

"  She  does  not  care — not  much  I  mean — 
If  a  fellow's  face  is  not  alwaj'S  clean; 
And  if  your  trousers  are  torn  at  the  knee, 
?  She  can  put  in  a  patch  that  you'd  never  see. 

"A  fellow's  mother  is  never  mad. 

And  only  sorry,  if  you're  bad; 

And  I'll  tell  you  this:  if  you're  only  true, 

vShe'U  always  forgive  you,  whate'er  you  do. 

"  I'm  sure  of  this,"  said  Will  the  wise. 
With  a  manly  look  in  his  laughing  eyes; 
"I'll  mind  my  mother,  quick,  every  day — 
A  fellow's  a  baby  that  won't  obey." 

— From  Little  K'uig/its  and  Ladiea. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

^      The  Children's  Sunday. 

HIS   nation   was    founded    ty   the  fathers  with    a   certain  strong 
leaning  toward  truth  and  justice,  with  certain  well-defined  prin- 
ciples, and  in  steadfast  opposition  to  tyranny  over  the  conscience. 
"What  sought  they  thus  afar?"  wrote  Mrs.  Hemans  in 
her  beautiful  poem,  on  the  lar-^.ing  of  the  Pilgrims,  when 

"The  breaking  waves  dashed  high 
On  a  stern  and  rock-bound  coast; 
And  the  woods  against  a  stormy  sky, 

Their  giant  branches  tossed, 
And  the  heavy  night  hung  dark 

The  hills  and  waters  o'er, 
When  a  band  of  exiles  moored  their  barque. 
On  the  wild  New  England  shore." 

Then  she  goes  on  to  say  that  they  sought  not  wealth,  nor  spoils,  nor  anything 
but  ' '  Freedom  to  worship  God. ' ' 

One  of  the  broad  planks  in  the  platform  on  which  the  fathers  built  was  the 
respect  for  the  Lord's  Day.     They  founded  a  Sabbath-keeping  nation. 

In  the  last  few  years  we  have  seen  a  decline  from  the  old  reverence  for  the 
Sabbath,  people  have  allowed  themselves  more  license  than  once.  Children  are 
not  so  strictly  brought  up.  Socially,  in  our  cities,  the  Sabbath  is  more  and  more 
treated  as  if  it  were  a  holiday  and  not  a  holy  day.  Since  wheelmen  and  wheel- 
women  have  grown  to  be  a  numerous  class,  there  has  been  noticed  a  growing 
tendency  to  use  the  sacred  day  for  the  amusement  of  bicycling.  Young  men  and 
young  women,  who  formerly  attended  church  and  Sunday-school,  now  excuse 
themselves  for  absence  from  both  on  the  plea  that  theii  weekly  occupations  debar 
them  from  fresh  air  and  exercise,  and  they  fancy  that  they  are  doing  right  in  first 
considering  their  own  health  of  body.     But  our  Lord  said: 

"  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  all  other  things  shall  be  added 
unto  you." 

We  need  a  return  to  the  happy  home  Sabbaths  of  other  days.  Perhaps  some 
of  our  ancestors  erred  in  being   too  rigid;  if  so,  the  swing  of  the  pendulum  is 

(165) 


i66  THE   CHILDREN'S  SUNDAY. 

now  confessedly  toward  the  other  extreme.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  keeping  the 
day  hol}^  and  j-et  having  it  a  very  happy  day  too. 

Little  children  may  early  learn  that  there  is  a  difference  between  weekdays 
and  Sunday.  The  Sunday  is  not  for  the  rough  play  of  the  week.  There  may  be 
Sundaj'  toys,  Sunday  books,  Sunday  talks  with  mother,  Sunday  walks  with  father, 
a  Sunday  treat  in  the  way  of  candies  and  desserts  not  allowed  on  other  days,  a 
Sunday  indulgence  in  sitting  up  a  half-hour  later  at  night,  and  Sunday  evening 
singing  by  the  whole  famil3\ 

The  little  ones  who  are  old  enough  may  go  to  Sunday-school,  and  to  church. 
They  will  never  be  sorry  in  later  life  if  they  were  early  taken  to  the  sanctuary. 
Though  the)'  understand  little  of  what  they  hear,  thej'  will  gradually  form  the 
habit  of  listening  to  the  sermon,  and  they  will  get  more  positive  good  and  instruc- 
tion than  parents  fancy  possible  by  simply  being  in  the  house  of  God. 

ReUgious  instruction  must  begin  early,  be  regular,  thorough,  and  dogmatic, 
if  it  is  to  sink  deepl}'  into  the  juvenile  mind  and  influence  life  and  character.  Is 
there  on  this  wide  earth  a  more  beautiful  sight  than  that  of  fathers,  mothers  and 
children  attending  the  house  of  God  together? 

We  are  told  of  our  blessed  Lord  that  He  came  to  Nazareth,  where  He  was 
brought  up,  and  as  His  custom  was,  He  went  into  the  synagogue  on  the  Sabbath 
day.     Commenting  on  this  passage.  Dr.   Deems  pithil}-  remarked: 

' '  Any  hint  of  the  every-day  life  of  Jesus  Christ  is  peculiarly  valuable  to  the 
careful  student  of  His  history.  Very  instructive,  therefore,  are  the  words  of  this 
verse,  for  they  plainly  teach  that  Jesus  was  in  the  habit  of  what  we  now  call 
church-going;  He  was  not  an  irregular  attendant;  every  Sabbath  day  saw  Him  in 
His  accustomed  place,  none  more  profound  in  homage,  as  none  were  more  eager 
in  attention.  If  Jesus  Christ  could  not  do  without  public  worship,  can  we?  If 
Jesus  Christ  was  not  ashamed  of  the  house  of  God,  should  the  j-oung  of  this  day 
be  negligent  of  the  sanctuary  of  their  fathers  ?  ' ' 

Then,  pursuing  the  congenial  theme,  this  wise  pastor  and  preacher  goes  on, 
and  adds: 

"  We  are  not  to  think  that  in  God's  family  are  to  be  found  only  the  old,  and 
those  who  are  grown  up  men  and  women.  A  large  part  of  God's  family  consists 
of  children.  Just  as  in  other  families  you  find  young  and  old  together;  so  it  is  in 
God's  family;  and  just  as  in  other  families  the  children  are  not  the  least  dear  and 
beloved  of  the  household,  so  it  is  in  God's  family. 

"  '  There  is  room  for  the  child,  who  His  doctrine  adorning, 
To  Jesus  his  heart  and  his  service  has  given; 
And  still  in  the  beauty  of  life's  early  morning, 
Has  chosen  his  part  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'  " 


CHRISTMAS   CAROI.S. 


(167) 


1 68 


THE   CHILDREN'S   SUNDAY. 


People  sometimes  hesitate  about  leading  the  dear  little  children  early  into  the 
kingdom.  But  Jesus  called  the  little  ones  to  Him  and  said,  ' '  Suffer  them  to  come 
and  forbid  them  not."  One  easy  upward  step  in  the  Christian  life  is  the  step  of 
Sabbath-keeping.  And  little  feet  easily  learn  to  take  this,  and  to  tread  in  the 
uphill  path  that,  straight  and  narrow  though  it  be,  leads  by  moor  and  fen,  by 
rough  and  smooth,  right  to  the  Father's  house. 


To  take  a  Sunday  walk  with  father." 


Apropos  of  the  familiar  question,  "Are  you  ready  for  church?"  some  one 
has  said  very  beautifully: 

"  Up  the  stairway  of  a  quiet  New  England  parsonage  used  to  come  this  ques- 
tion, Sunday  after  Sunday,  asked  by  the  minister  in  his  calm,  reverent  voice  as 
he  came  from  his  study,  where  he  had  been  pleading  for  a  blessing  upon  the  day's 
labor,  and  down  would  float  the  various  replies  in  careless,  girlish  voices:  '  Yes;' 
'  Almost;'  '  No:  don't  wait  for  me,  I'm  not  nearly  ready.' 


THE   CHILDREN'S   SUNDAY.  169 

"  And  still  after  the  lapse  of  many  years,  in  the  calm  of  the  blessed  Sabbath 
mornings,  do  I  seem  to  hear  the  same  old  question.  The  same  and  yet  not  the 
same,  for  with  the  passing  of  time  the  meaning  has  broadened  and  deepened, 
going  far  beyond  that  which  takes  note  of  the  outward  adorning  alone,  for  the 
words  now  come  to  my  soul  and  the  speaker  seems  to  be  '  One  whose  form  is  like 
unto  that  of  the  Son  of  God,'  and  again,  as  in  the  long  ago,  do  I  ofttimes  have  to 
make  sad  reply,  '  No,  I'm  not  nearly  ready.' 

"  In  this  experience  do  I  walk  alone  ?  I  fear  not,  and  in  the  lack  of  indi- 
vidual preparation,  it  seems  to  me,  may  be  found  the  reason  why  to  bo  many  of 
us  the  prayerfully,  carefully  prepared  services  of  the  lyord's  house  on  His  day  prove 
to  be  '  flat,  stale  and  unprofitable,'  when  they  might  glow  with  divine  power, 
leading  our  souls  into  '  green  pastures  and  beside  still  waters, '  so  refreshing  us 
spiritually  that  throughout  the  week  we  would  be 

"  '  Plying  our  daily  task  with  busier  feet, 
Because  our  secret  souls  a  holier  strain  repeat. ' 

"  If  special  preparation  would  lead  to  this  result,  would  it  not  be  worth  our 
most  earnest  endeavor  ?  Is  it  too  much  to  ask  that  we  who  are  called  to  present 
ourselves  before  the  King  of  kings  and  the  Lord  of  lords  should  make  ready  ? 
The  simple  rule  in  physics,  that  no  two  things  can  occupy  the  same  space  at  the 
same  time,  holds  good  in  spiritual  matters  as  well,  and  we  who  would  truly  com- 
mune with  God  on  His  day  must  first  be  from  '  our  worldly  cares  set  free. '  We 
are  so  constituted  that  we  cannot  rush  into  His  presence  and  be  calmed  and  quieted 
instantly.  While  we  are  striving  for  a  restful  soul  condition  precious  time  is  being 
wasted,  and  long  before  we  have  found  the  desired  help  the  benediction  is  pro- 
nounced, and  we  go  from  the  house  of  prayer  hungering  and  thirsting  for  that 
which  we  might  have  had. 

"In  order  to  gain  the  most  from  this  God-given  day  of  rest,  worship  and 
service  we  need  to  preface  each  one  with  six  days  of  earnest  preparation.  Without 
this  daily  living  in  touch  with  God  a  few  special  hours  of  devotion  will  avail  little. 
But  those  whose  lives  are  most  in  accord  with  that  of  the  great  Teacher  are  the 
very  ones,  seemingly,  who  most  feel  the  need  of  adding  to  this  weekly  prepara- 
tion a  special  time  when  they  may,  as  it  were,  begin  their  »'  day  of  rest  and 
gladness '  before  it  really  comes  by  a  quiet  season  alone  with  their  God. 

' '  There  are  many  housekeepers  who  could  do  some  of  the  extra  work,  which 
seems  of  necessity  to  precede  the  Sabbath,  a  little  earlier  in  the  week.  If  we  only 
thought  so,  there  are  times  other  than  Saturday'  evening  which  could  be  used  to 
reduce  the  pile  of  clothes  in  the  mending  basket.  These  and  many  other  ways 
will  suggest  themselves  to  those  whose  steadfast  desire  is  to  make  of  these  earthly 
Sabbaths  foretastes  of  the  heaven  above.     In  this,  as  in  all  other  debated  questions 


(i7o) 


s     \ 
PI.KASURES   OF   MEETING   THEIR   TEACHER. 


THE   DEAR  LITTLE   HEADS   IN   THE   PEW.  171 

of  right  versus  practicability,  the  wise  old  saying,  '  Where  there  is  a  will  there  is 
a  way,'  will  prove  itself  true,  and  the  blessing  of  the  Lord  will  surely  rest  upon 
every  effort  to  gain  for  one's  self  and  others  the  most  good  from  the  right  use  of 
sacred  times  and  seasons.  Try  for  one  month  the  plan  of  coming  to  this  '  day  of 
all  the  week  the  best '  rested  in  body,  strong  in  mind,  calm  and  peaceful  in  spirit, 
and  thus  be  able  to  answer  *  Yes  '  when  the  question  comes  to  your  soul,  '  Are 
you  ready  for  church  ?  '  " 


The  Dear  Little  Heads  in  the  Pew. 

In  the  morn  of  the  holy  Sabbath 

I  like  in  the  church  to  see 
The  dear  little  children  clustered, 

Worshiping  there  with  me. 
I  am  sure  that  the  gentle  pastor. 

Whose  words  are  like  summer  dew, 
Is  cheered  as  he  gazes  over 

Dear  little  heads  in  the  pew. 

Faces  earnest  and  thoughtful, 

Innocent,  grave  and  sweet; 
They  look  in  the  congregation 

Like  lilies  among  the  wheat. 
And  I  think  that  the  tender  Master, 

Whose  mercies  are  ever  new, 
Has  a  special  benediction 

For  the  dear  little  heads  in  the  pew. 

Clear  in  the  hymns  resounding 

To  the  organ's  swelling  chord, 
Mingle  the  fresh  young  voices, 

Eager  to  praise  the  Lord. 
And  to  me  the  rising  anthem 

Has  a  meaning  deep  and  true; — 
The  thought  and  the  music  blended. 

For  the  dear  little  heads  in  the  pew. 

When  they  hear  "  The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd,' 

Or,  "Suffer  the  babes  to  come," 
They  are  glad  that  the  loving  Jesus 

Has  given  the  lambs  a  home, 


172 


THE   DEAR   LITTLE   HEADS   IN    THE   PEW. 

A  place  of  their  own  with  His  people; 

He  cares  for  me  and  for  you; 
But  close  in  His  arms  He  gathers 

The  dear  little  heads  in  the  pew. 

So  I  love  in  the  great  assembly, 

On  the  Sabbath  morn  to  see 
•The  dear  little  children  clustered 

And  worshiping  there  with  me; 
For  I  know  that  the  gracious  Saviour, 

Whose  mercies  are  ever  new, 
Has  a  special  benediction 

For  the  dear  little  heads  in  the  pew. 


There  is  no  harm,  by  the  bye,  in  providing  for  the  entertainment  of  very  little 
children  during  the  hours  of  public  worship,  by  keeping  in  the  pew  a  story-book, 
or  a  Bible  history  with  pictures,  or  a  pad  and  pencil,  so  that  they  may  quietlj' 
employ  themselves,  when  the  sermon  is  going  on  above  their  little  heads.  Only 
Httle  children  will  require  this  resource.  Older  ones  will  not  find  an  ordinary 
service  wearisome. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Mothers  and  Sons. 

KNEW  a  mother  years  ago  who,  living  in  a  place  where  hired  heip  was 
simply  not  to  be  had,  even  if  her  means  had  allowed  her  to  engage  it, 
did  her  own  work  with  the  aid  of  her  husband  and  her  boys,  and  in 
addition  prepared  the  sons  for  college.  I  used  to  receive  her  long, 
bright  chatty  letters  ironi  the  little  far-away  inland  town,  where  her 
home  was  a  haven  of  peace  to  my  thoughts,  oftentimes  written  by 
snatches  aa  she  waited  for  the  loaves  to  brown  in  the  oven,  or  taken  up 
when  she  laid  her  mending  aside  for  a  moment's  rest.  She  sometimes 
told  me  of  the  blue-eyed  laddie  at  her  knee  reciting  his  Latin  gram- 
mar, which  was  propped  up  before  her  as  she  washed  dishes  and  made  bread,  or 
explained  an  incoherent  sentence  by  the  fact  that  her  husband  had  called  her  into 
the  study  to  listen  to  a  report  he  was  about  to  send  to  a  ministerial  committee, 
in  the  very  mid-current  of  her  friendly  letter. 

A  hard-working,  cheery,  useful  life  was  hers,  far-reaching  in  its  influence, 
too,  as  the  lives  of  good  mothers  always  are.  Now  that  she  kas  gone,  her  sons, 
trained  in  pure  and  noble  ways,  are  repeating  her  in  countless  blessed  endeavors 
— sons,  perhaps  rather  than  daughters,  carrying  most  of  the  mother  with  them 
through  this  world. 

To  speak  of  the  mother-brooding  which  enfolds  the  opennig  years  of  a  man's 
life  as  the  dearest  experience  which  life  will  ever  have  for  him  may  be  in  a  sense 
untrue.  Man  goes  through  many  experiences  and  tastes  many  a  cup  divinely 
brewed.  There  are  for  him  sacramental  days  which  lift  him  almost  to  the  plane 
of  heavenly  joy  all  along  the  road  here  and  there  in  his  progress.  The  day  when 
he  decides  for  Christ  against  the  temptations  of  lower  ambition  and  mere  temporal 
advantage  is  one  starred  forever  after  in  happiest  memory.  The  da>'  when  he 
finds  his  ideal  enshrined  in  a  fair  woman,  and  she  returns  his  love  in  sweet  trust- 
fulness and  gracious  surrender,  is  henceforward  a  glad  anniversary. 

The  day  when  the  cry  of  the  first-born  is  in  the  house  and  the  sweetness  of 
heaven  haloes  the  mother's  face  is  set  apart  as  a  day  of  the  solemn  feast,  of  the 
crowning  and  the  laurel.  But  yet  always,  and  more  and  more  as  time  goes  on 
and  youth  yields  to  the  pressure  of  lengthening  age,  the  heart  of  the  son  goes 
yearning  back  to  the  golden  dawn  when  his  mother  made  his  childhood  a  dream 
of  delight. 

(173) 


174  MOTHERS   AND   SONS. 

There  is  something  of  the  woman  nature  in  every  complete  man  as  the  finest 
and  strongest  women  have  in  their  souls,  too,  a  strain  derived  from  their  fathers. 
Each  sex  complements  the  other  in  a  mysterious  but  evident  exchange  of  gifts 
and  graces,  so  that  a  wholly  feminine  woman,  could  we  find  one,  would  hardly 
please  us,  and  would  probably  be  of  somewhat  tenuous  fibre,  while  a  wholly  mas- 
culine man  might  have  too  arbitrary',  not  to  say  inclement  and  even  brutal,  a 
nature.  In  the  highest  types  ot  men  and  women  we  find  the  human  element 
compounded  of  the  best  in  both  halves  of  the  race,  and  daughters  are  often  most 
like  fathers  and  sons  like  mothers,  from  a  law  which  goes  deep  into  the  primitive 
conditions  of  being. 

The  mother  who  would  have  her  sons  grow  up  worthil}-  must  count  not  her 
life  dear  in  the  years  when  they  are  under  her  moulding  hand.  She  must  take  an 
interest  in  whatever  engages  them,  from  the  era  of  balls  and  tops  to  the  era  of 
falling  in  love.  Never  to  lose  a  boy's  confidence  is  the  wisest  counsel  which  can 
be  given  a  mother.  But  how  is  she  to  attain  this  end  ?  Only  by  putting  her  boys 
first  and  keeping  them  first.  Only  by  subordinating  other  engagements,  of 
pleasure,  of  society,  of  church  work,  of  philanthropy,  to  the  more  important 
engagement  she  has  in  the  nursery,  the  playground  and  around  the  evening  lamp. 
Her  boy's  associates  and  comrades  must  be  hers,  too.  She  must  share  his  life 
and  know  his  aims,  and  keep  with  him  hand  in  hand. 

A  woman  whose  sweet  face  rises  on  my  thought  has  done  this  thing  for  her 
boy,  though  she  has  been  handicapped  by  continual  bondage,  literal  bondage,  to 
a  couch  of  pain.  During  the  long  years  when  she  has  been  unable  to  walk  a 
step,  or  to  turn  in  bed  without  assistance,  her  indomitable  will  has  kept  her  from 
casting  a  stiadow  on  the  wholesome  sunshine  of  her  boy's  youth.  She  has  kept 
pace  with  him  in  his  studies  and  in  his  games,  has  been  able  brightly  and  con- 
stantly to  stimulate  him  in  the  best  ways,  has  given  him  a  saintl}'  ideal  of  what 
womanhood  may  be  when  tried  in  the  furnace  and  seven  times  refined. 

If  a  woman  worn  with  bodily  pain  and  spent  with  weakness  may  do  much, 
what  may  not  one  accomplish  whose  life  is  unlettered  and  who  may  go  and  come 
as  she  chooses?     Under  God,  a  mother  may  make  her  boy  what  she  will. 

Here  is  a  good  bit  of  advice:  "An  active  boy  must  have  some  chance  to  let 
off  his  extra  activity.  If  a  boy  does  not  have  this  opportunity  legitimately  he 
becomes  moody  and  restless,  and  is  likely  to  vent  his  superfluous  energy  in  some 
unlawful  manner.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  repress  the  energies  of  boys,  or,  for 
that  matter,  of  girls.  The  active  games  to  which  boys  naturally  turn  are  not 
merely  for  exercise;  the  boys  must  work  oflf  their  extra  power.  What  is  often. 
considered  mischief  is  nothing  but  the  inevitable  blowing  off.  They  will  outgrow 
it,  and  their  natural  energy  will  soon  enough  be  piped,  like  the  natural  gas  of  the 
coal  fields^  and  made  to  be  useful.     Their  invention  in  mischief  is  only  the  prophecy 


MOTHERvS   AND   SONS. 


175 


of  genius  in  practical  life.     Mothers  worry  needlessly  over  active  children.     Little 
children  are  called  good  when  nothing  is  meant  but  quiet." 


THE  mother's  boy. 

And  this  quotation,  from  a  sensible  writer  and  child  lover,  is  applicable  to 
fathers  and  mothers,  too.     We  never  outgrow  the  need  of  a  word  in  season. 


176  MOTHERS   AND   SONS. 

I  want  to  tell  you  about  a  lovely  little  mother  whom  I  met  in  a  crowd. 

We  were  standing,  she  and  I,  beside  a  great  engine,  a  mighty  thing  of  mul- 
tiplied cogs  and  wheels  and  bands,  which  neither  she  nor  I  in  the  slightest  degree 
understood,  but  which  we  could  look  at  with  wonder  in  our  e5'es  and  admiration. 

She  had  come  from  her  home  in  the  quiet  mountains,  her  first  outing  in  thirty 
years.  On  her  dear  gray  head  she  wore  a  sunbonnet,  with  finely  hemmed  ruffles 
and  shirrs,  and  a  deep  cape.  Her  black  gown  was  old  in  fashion  but  of  excellent 
stuff,  and  it  draped  her  figure  in  severe  straight-hanging  folds.  She  carried  a 
little  bag  and  an  umbrella.  By  her  side,  ever  silent,  attentive  and  watchful, 
strode  her  son,  a  fine-looking,  bronzed  young  farmer,  who  had  brought  his  mother 
to  the  fair,  and  meant  that  she  should  miss  nothing  that  was  worth  seeing. 
Between  the  two,  both  reserved,  both  unused  to  being  in  great  crowds  of  strange 
people,  there  passed  looks  of  perfect  mutual  understanding,  and  once  I  per- 
ceived for  an  instant  on  her  beautiful  old  face  the  expression  which  I  remember, 
the  sweet,  proud,  confident,  restful  look  which  glorifies  motherhood,  see  it  where 
you  may. 

"Honey,"  I  heard  her  say,  "I'm  glad  you  persuaded  me  to  come.  It's 
fine." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,   "it's  great!  " 

Curious,  is  it  not,  the  bond  between  mother  and  son.  In  some  ways  it's  more 
close  and  intimate  than  the  bond  between  mother  and  daughter.  A  good  man 
always  has  a  bit  of  his  mother  in  him,  and  is  apt  to  be  sympathetic  and  tender  in 
home  relations  because  of  the  woman-part  of  his  nature.  Sons  ' '  take  after ' ' 
mothers  in  many  subtle  ways,  just  as  daughters  favor  fathers.  It's  a  beautiful 
thing  to  see  a  boj'  playing  the  part  of  lover  to  his  mother,  lifting  her  burdens, 
making  life  easier  for  her,  and  seeking  her  as  his  comrade  on  a  journey  for  pleasure 
and  recreation. 

Seeing  that  mother's  face  made  me  think  about  a  mother's  heart.  What  a 
composite  thing  it  is,  so  full  of  passionate  sacrifice,  so  devoted,  so  unselfish,  so  full 
of  self- forgetfuln  ess  and  self-abnegation.  Half  the  time  we  mothers  are  not  aware 
that  we  are  making  sacrifices;  it  is  joy  to  us  merely  to  have  the  chance  to  go  with- 
out and  do  without  and  stay  in  the  background  that  our  children  may  have  every 
possible  opportunity  for  advancement. 

In  ever>^  line  of  that  dear  old  mother-face  at  the  fair  I  read  the  story  of  the 
mother-heart,  and  I  carried  away  from  the  great  and  beautiful  exhibition  the 
sweetness  and  the  glory  that  I  saw  there.  After  all,  what  did  it  matter  that  she 
knew  the  hard  side  of  life,  that  she  often  had  felt  loneliness  and  sometimes  sorrow! 
She  had  her  boy ! 

One  day  last  summer,  in  quite  another  part  of  the  country,  I  sat  on  a  farm- 
house porch  and  talked  with  the  mistress  of  the  dwelling.     Near  us  played  on  the 


HEI,PING  MOTHER. 


(177) 


178  MOTHERS   AND  SONS. 

grass  a  slender,  delicate  little  boy,  who  was  the  last  remaining  child  of  six  born  in 
that  cottage,  and  carried  from  there  to  the  graveyard.  In  that  mother's  face  were 
furrows  made  by  grief.  A  woman  is  never  just  the  same  again  after  she  has 
buried  a  child.  The  scars  of  the  old  wounds  are  there,  and  the  wounds  ache  in 
the  night.  This  mother  clung  to  her  little  laddie,  toiled  for  him,  studied  with  him 
in  the  long  winter  evenings,  and  walked  with  him  to  Sunday-school  over  the 
rough,  steep  road,  a  walk  of  three  long  miles,  every  week,  because  Jack  must  go, 
and  she  wouldn't  send  him  by  himself. 

"  Jack  is  a  great  comfort,  isn't  he?  "  I  said. 

"  Jack  is  a  good  boy,"  she  answered,  "  and  he's  all  father  and  I  have  to  live 
for.  But  I  can  give  him  up,  when  the  time  comes.  I  don't  want  him  to  live  his 
whole  life  hemmed  in  by  mountain  walls.  We'll  send  him  out  to  have  his  chance 
in  the  great  world. ' ' 

A  mother's  heart,  you  see,  has  its  ambitions! 

Our  Civil  War  is  so  long  over  that  its  animcsities  are  forgotten,  and  its  old 
battlefields  blossom  with  roses  and  lilies  of  peace.  In  Nashville  there  is  a  stor\' 
told  to-day,  and  a  bust  is  shown  carved  with  rare  art,  the  sculptor's  tribute  to  Sam 
Davis.  The  mother  who  bore  so  noble  a  son  must  have  been  proud  of  him,  tragic 
and  terrible  as  were  the  circumstances  of  his  death.  Not  quite  twenty  years  old, 
this  son  of  the  Tennessee  mountains  went  into  the  war  and  became  a  Confederate 
spy.  Captured  by  the  Union  forces,  and  sentenced  to  meet  a  spy's  death,  he  was 
promised  life  and  liberty  if  he  would  tell  from  whom  he  had  received  the  informa- 
tion found  on  his  person.  The  youth  was  too  noble  to  betray  an  enemy,  and 
brave  as  either  Nathan  Hale  or  Major  Andre,  he  went,  with  sealed  lips,  to  the 
gallows.  It  is  a  pathetic  tale  of  heroism  and  gallantry,  and  to-day  women  from 
the  North  and  the  South,  women  with  mother-hearts  throbbing  in  their  breasts, 
look  with  wet  eyes  on  the  marble  which  shows  the  strength,  sweetness  and  courage 
of  this  Southern  lad. 

Pertinent  questions  arise  as  we  consider  the  ever-present  problem  of  child- 
training.  It  is  in  maternal  hands  for  the  first  and  mo.st  important  years  of  life. 
How  shall  we  rear  our  children?  What  shall  we  do  that  they  may  be  developed  in 
goodness,  in  valor,  and  in  truth  ?  First,  we  must  ourselves  be  transparently^  true, 
true  in  the  spoken  word,  true  in  the  outward  expression  of  character,  true  in  our 
very  thoughts. 

Next  we  must  be  resolute.  Weak  and  silly  women  will  have  children  like 
unto  themselves.  We  must  take  a  position  and  keep  it.  We  must  sometimes 
perhaps  be  stern,  for  sternness  and  tenderness  are  not  always  in  opposition.  We 
must  hold  firmly  to  the  right  in  all  cases,  without  compromise. 

Then,  lastly,  we  must  bring  up  our  children  in  the  fear  of  God.  Grand  men 
and  women  are  built  only  on  sure  foundations.     The  next  generation,  if  it  is  to  be 


MOTHERS    AND    SONS.  lyg 

worthy  of  the  period  and  of  this  great  and  splendid  land,  must  honor  and  revere 
Almighty    God.       Rudyard    Kipling   struck   the    right    note   in  his  recessional 

hymn : 

"  Lord  God  of  hosts,  be  with  us  yet, 
Lest  we  forget,  lest  we  forget." 

' '  How  can  I  secure  perfect  obedience  from  my  child  ? ' '  This  question  is 
daily  agitated  by  thousands  of  well-meaning  fathers  and  mothers.  .  Various 
answers  might  be  given,  to  suit  various  cases,  all  of  which  would  be  more  or  less 
helpful,  such  as  "Don't  nag,"  "Don't  demand  too  much,"  "Don't  punish  in 
anger,"  "Give  the  child  a  chance  to  exercise  a  right  of  choice, "  "  Trust  your 
boy,"  " Show  your  faith  in  his  good  intentions,"  "Sympathize  with  him  in  his 
weaknesses, — some  of  which  he  may  have  inherited  from  you,  and  which  he  sees 
in  you,"  ' '  Treat  him  as  though  his  youth  were  not  his  fault,  and  don't  let  it  debar 
him  from  obtaining  simple  justice." 

But  there  is  one  answer  which  is  above  and  beyond  all  these;  in  truth,  it  lies 
back  of  them  and  includes  them.  The  shortest  and  surest  way  to  get  obedience 
from.your  child  is  to  think  less  about  what  you  are  going  to  get,  and  more  about 
what  you  are  going  to  give.  Think  less  of  yourself  as  his  master  than,  as  his 
helper.  God's  truth  is  a  unit,  and  the  infallible  rule  against  self-seeking  applies 
in  this  as  in  every  other  sphere  of  life.  It  applies  in  God's  own  dealings  with  His 
creatures.  His  whole  nature  is  outgoing.  Humanly  speaking  His  first  concern 
is  for  His  children. 

"But,"  replies  the  inquiring  father,  "I  don't  call  that  self-seeking.  Paul 
says  that  children  ought  to  obey  their  parents;  and,  as  a  parent,  it  is  my  duty  to 
train  my  child  to  do  what  he  ought  to  do." 

Good  father,  j^ou  and  Paul  are  right;  but  it  makes  a  great  difference  whether, 
in  your  general  desire  to  so  train  3'our  child,  the  burden  of  3''our  anxiety  falls  most 
upon  5'our  deserts  as  his  father,  or  upon  his  deserts  as  your  son. 

Of  course,  the  child  must  understand  that  it  is  under  authority,  and  it  must 
grow  by  doing  for  and  serving  you;  but  that  is  quite  apart  from  your  indulging 
yourself  in  the  despotic  delights  of  "my  authority"  as  the  finality  of  your 
parental  thinking.  The  man  who  lies  awake  at  night  over  the  proposition, 
'  *  How  can  I  get  obedience  ?  "  is  not  likely  to  think  beyond  that  obedience  when 
he  gets  it  by  fair  means  or  by  foul.  He  will  rest  satisfied  in  the  ultimate  achieve- 
ment of  his  purpose  to  be  obeyed.  And  if  the  demands  that  he  makes  upon  his 
child  for  obedience  are  unreasonable,  not  to  say  immoral,  he  will  still  have  leached 
the  goal  of  securing  obedience, — which  was  what  he  started  out  to  do. 

And  what  about  the  obedient  child's  character  in  the  meantime? 

"Oh  !  "  answers  the  good  father,  "  I  wouldn't  make  unreasonable  demands, 
and,  of  course,  I  purpose  to  be  morally  correct  in  my  rulings." 


i8o  .  MOTHERvS    AND   SONS. 

IvCt  the  moral  question  pass.  Are  you  sure  you  would  not  be  unreasonable? 
Are  you  sure  that  you  could  not  misunderstand  your  child  some  time,  that  you 
could  not  be  unfair  to  him,  could  not  slight  him,  could  not  even  be  impolite  to 
him  ?  Are  you  sure  you  are  fallible  in  everything  except  this  one  business  of 
being  your  child's  master  and  ruler? 

"Oh  !  certain!}^  I  should  make  mistakes,"  replies  the  father;  wouldn't  you 
3'ourself  ?  ' ' 

Undoubtedly  I  might.  But,  other  things  being  equal,  when  my  child's  due 
was  my  first  thought  I  should  be  in  far  less  danger  of  making  mistakes  than  when 
that  thought  was  for  myself.  Now  let  me  tell  you  a  good  old  secret:  "  Nature  is 
commanded  by  obeying  her."  Child  nature  is  one  of  God's  forms  of  nature. 
Study  it, — it  will  take  about  all  the  brains  and  heart  and  time  that  you  have  to 
spare.  In  dealing  with  little  children  we  obey  God,  so  far,  by  obeying  child 
nature, — that  is,  complying  with  natural  conditions.  Work  from  that  point  of 
view,  and  you  will  be  surprised  to  find  how  naturally  your  child  obeys  God  by 
obej'ing  you.  Get  by  giving,  but  don't  give  for  the  purpose  of  getting.  Obedi- 
ence to  you  is  the  child's  business.  If  you  do  your  part  faithfully  toward  the 
child,  he  will  easily  do  his  part  toward  his  father.  When  he  fails  in  his  duty,  as 
occasionally  he  will,  it  will  not  be  too  soon  to  look  back  of  his  failure  for  your 
own.  Obedience  can  be  obtained  through  fear,  or  the  mechanism  of  so-called 
discipline.  But  obedience  for  love's  sake  is  the  easiest  to  obtain,  and  is  worth 
most  when  you  get  it. 

"  It  was  the  late  Henry  Drummond  who  once  said  to  a  great  company  of  boys: 
'  Boys,  if  you  are  going  to  be  Christians,  be  Christians  as  boys,  and  not  as  your 
grandmothers.  A  grandmother  has  to  be  a  Christian  as  a  grandmother,  and  that 
is  the  right  and  beautiful  thing  for  her;  but  if  you  cannot  read  your  Bible  by  the 
hour  as  your  grandmother  can,  don't  think  that  you  are  necessarily  a  bad  boy. 
When  you  are  your  grandmother's  age,  50U  will  have  your  grandmother's 
religion.' 

"  Now,  there  is  a  deal  in  the  above  for  a  boy  to  take  to  heart;  for  some  boys 
have  the  idea  that  they  will  be  expected  to  put  aside  most  of  their  propensities,  if 
they  take  upon  themselves  the  duties  of  Christian  boys.  This  is  a  mistake.  No 
one  expects,  no  one  wants  them  to  give  up  the  natural  rights  and  feelings  of 
boyhood.  They  are  not  to  be  in  the  least  grandmotherly  or  grandfatherly,  but 
they  are  to  be  happy  in  the  way  that  God  intended  all  youth  should  be  happy. 

"  One  of  the  truest-hearted  Christian  boys  I  know  is  also  the  merriest.  No 
one  would  think  of  calling  him  'grandmotherly.'  He  reads  his  Bible,  too,  and 
goes  regularly  to  church,  to  Sunday-school,  and  to  prayer-meeting.  He  is  at  the 
same  time  such  a  good  ball-player  that  he  is  always  chosen  first  when  the  boys 
are  choosing  sides  for  a  game.  And  no  boy  of  his  age  can  excel  him  at  football 
or  at  tennis.     And  they  always  say  of  him:   '  Harry  plays  fair;   he  does  ! ' 


"  No  boy  can  excel  liim  in  foot-ball  or  at  tennis."  (i8i) 


l82 


MOTHERS   AND   SONS. 


"  He  is  the  life  of  the  social  gatherings  he  attends,  and  his  reputation  for 
absolute  truthfulness  is  such  that  the  teacher  of  the  school  he  attends  told  me,  not 
long  ago,  that  on  one  occasion,  when  the  boys  on  the  playground  were  hotly  discuss- 
ing a  certain  matter,  and  there  had  been  charges  of  falsehood  made  and  still  more 
hotly  refuted,  one  of  the  boys  said: 

"  '  I^et  Harrj^  M tell  the  straight  of  the  story.     He  knows  all  about  it, 

and  he'll  tell  the  exact  truth.' 

"  It  is  a  fine  thing  for  a  boy  to  have  a  reputation  like  that  in  a  community 
in  which  he  lives. 

"  At  another  time,  the  pupils  in  Harry's  room  had  met  to  select  some  one  of 
their  number  to  present  a  certain  request  to  the  principal  of  the  school,  and  Harr^'' 
was  immediately  chosen,  '  because  he  is  so  sort  of  gentlemanly,'  as  one  of  the  boys 
said. 

"This  was  a  tribute  of  the  unfailing  power  and  influence  of  real  courtesy, 
and  true  courtesy  is  a  marked  trait  of  Christian  character. 

"  Harry  is  a  Christian  boy  in  a  boyish  way,  which  is  quite  as  charming  and 
impressive  as  the  grandmotherly  way  of  being  a  Christian.  All  Christianity  is 
based  upon  right  thinking  and  right  living,  without  regard  to  age.  Each  decade 
of  life  has  its  own  particular  joys  in  the  Christian  life.  They  are  all  God-given, 
and  none  are  sweeter  than  the  joys  of  true  Christian  boyhood." 


%'-?'— -K 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Fathers  and  Daughters. 

HERE  is  a  very  delicate  bond  of  sympathy  and  friendship  between 
the  father  and  his  daughter.  From  the  very  first  the  baby 
girl  twines  her  arms  very  closely  around  her  father's  heart, 
and  as  she  grows  older  he  regards  her  with  an  admiration 
almost  lover-like.  Fathers  are  usually  much  more  stern  and 
rigid  in  their  demeanor  toward  their  boys  than  they  are  in  their 
bearing  to  the  little  girls  who  seem  to  them  so  sweet  and  flower- 
like, and  who  enlist  the  tender  qualities  of  their  nature.  As  a 
young  girl  grows  up  she  recalls  to  her  father  the  attractions 
which  her  mother  possessed  in  her  girlish  days,  and  the  father  dis- 
likes very  much  to  disappoint  or  in  any  way  deny  a  wish  expressed 
by  Mary  or  Jennie,  while  he  has  no  hesitation  in  saying  "no"  to  John  or  Frank. 
A  girl  should  prize  her  influence  with  her  father  very  much,  and  should  use 
it  always  in  the  best  way.  The  ordinary  father  works  hard  and  constantly  for 
his  family.  He  takes  few  holidays;  he  spends  and  is  spent  for  them.  All  that 
he  can  earn  goes  to  the  maintenance  of  his  household,  the  education,  prepara- 
tion for  life,  clothing  and  caring  for  his  sons  and  daughters;  and  when  you  think 
of  it,  the  amount  he  personally  uses  out  of  all  he  makes  is  very  little.  His  life, 
health  and  energy  are  all  used — and  used  on  his  part  without  a  thought  of  sacri- 
fice— for  his  wife  and  children,  and  this  is  as  it  should  be. 

But  on  the  other  hand,  much  should  be  done  to  make  home  a  happy  and 
cheerful  place  for  him,  and  the  loving  daughter  can  do  a  great  deal  to  this  end. 
She  it  is  who  can  meet  her  father  when  he  comes  home  at  night,  find  for  him  a 
comfortable  seat,  see  that  he  has  the  sort  of  dinner  he  likes,  hover  about  him  with 
pleasant  attentions,  and  altogether  make  him  feel  that  life  is  still  an  Eden,  where 
roses  bloom  and  joys  abouna. 

If  the  daughter  is  fond  of  music,  her  father  will  like  to  hear  her  play  in  the 
evening.  I  often  think  that  we  undervalue  the  piano  as  a  household  fairy.  We 
have  grown  so  fastidious  as  to  musical  excellence  that  we  expect  too  much  and  do 
not  sufiiciently  estimate  the  pleasure  which  can  be  given  by  very  simple,  old- 
fashioned  playing.     The  child  who  has  learned  to  play  the  waltz  or  the  march, 

(183) 


(i84) 


"  The  baby  girl  twines  her  arms  about  the  father." 


FATHERS   AND   DAUGHTERS.  185 

the  daughter  whose  playing  would  not  be  highly  regarded  by  those  who  under- 
stand classical  melody,  may  still  make  the  family  very  happy  by  her  airs  and 
variations  and  her  simple  songs. 

Some  of  the  fathers  and  mothers  whose  heads  are  growing  gray  remember 
when  we  used  to  sit  down  by  the  piano  and  sing  "Nellie  Was  a  Lady,  Last 
Night  She  Died,"  "  Maggie  by  My  Side,"  "  My  Old  Kentucky  Home,"  "Rest  for 
the  Wear}-,"  and  other  sweet  and  somewhat  sentimental  songs  which  gave  us  a 
great  deal  of  very  innocent  delight.  I  have  seen  a  plain,  hard-working  man  look 
exceedingly  bored  when  a  fine  musician  was  rendering  Mozart,  Chopin  and  Schu- 
mann, simply  because  his  ear  and  taste  had  not  been  educated  up  to  the  standard 
of  the  great  composers,  but  he  brightened  up  immensely  when  a  little  girl  went 
to  the  piano  and  began  merrily  playing  ' '  Yankee  Doodle  ' '  and  ' '  Hail  Columbia. ' ' 
It  is  always  worth  while  for  children  and  young  people  to  be  entertaining  to 
those  who  have  passed  the  meridian,  and  it  is  an  especially  beautiful  sight 
which  we  see  when  a  father  and  daughter  are  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word 
"chums,"  understanding  0:1c  another,  and  enjoying  the  pleasure  their  relation- 
ship brings. 

A  daughter  is  sometimes  very  thoughtless,  and  imposes  burdens  on  her 
father  which  he  should  not  have  to  bear.  If  he  is  rich  and  there  is  no  need  of 
her  lending  a  hand  in  the  support  of  herself  or  the  family,  it  is  quite  right  that 
she  should  take  whatever  he  chooses  to  give  her,  but  if  in  his  long  bearing  of  the 
burden  and  heat  of  the  day  he  has  not  been  able  to  accumulate  a  competence,  it 
is  not  kind  or  daughterly  in  a  young  girl  to  add  to  his  cares  after  she  has  reached 
maturity.  She  would  very  much  better  enter  the  ranks  of  the  bread-winner  and 
support  herself. 

I  saw  an  instance  of  this  sort  of  selfishness  one  day  which  went  to  my  heart. 
The  father  was  pallid  and  middle-aged,  and  rapidly  growing  old.  He  bore  on  his 
face  the  marks  of  evident  care  and  anxiety.  His  pretty  daughter  hanging  on  his 
arm  as  he  went  away  in  the  morning  said:  "  Now,  papa,  you  will  be  sure  to  bring 
me  that  fifty  dollars  to-day  for  those  furs  when  you  come  home,  will  you  not  ?  ' ' 
He  said:  "  Ethel,  dear,  papa  will  do  his  best,  but  he  may  not  be  able  to  let  you 
have  the  furs  this  week. ' '  A  cloud  instautly  settled  on  the  pretty  face,  and  the  young 
girl,  frowning  and  all  her  pleasure  gone,  exclaimed,  "I  never  can  have  anything 
like  other  girls.  I  suppose  it  will  be  the  same  old  story.  There  is  never  any 
money  to  spare  for  me.  And  if  I  cannot  appear  as  well  as  the  girls  do  with  whom 
I  go,  I  may  as  well  settle  down  and  be  an  old  woman  at  once."  The  father  went 
away  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

A  few  days  after  I  saw  the  young  woman  looking  very  dimpled,  rosy  and 
beautiful  in  her  new  furs.  A  business  friend  of  the  father  said  to  me:  *  *  John  will 
soon  go  to  pieces;  his  family  are  too  extravagant,  and  he  has  not  the  strength  of 


i86 


FATHERS    AND   DAUGHTERS. 


"  Looking  very  dimpled,  rosy  and  beautiful  in  her  new  furs." 

will  to  restrain  them.  He  is  borrowing  money  right  and  left  and  has  great  trouble 
in  meeting  his  notes.  He  will  soon  go  under,  and  I  am  convinced  that  his  family 
are  partly  to  blame. ' ' 


FATHERS   AND   DAUGHTERS. 


187 


Surely  no  daughter  who  loves  her  father  will  be  willing  to  have  such  a  record 
as  this;  to  help  ruin  his  business  prospects  and  break  him  down  in  health  and 
spirits.  I  am  glad  to  know  that  such  instances  are  exceptional,  and  that  most 
young  girls  really  enjoy  entering  the  ranks  of  self-supporting  women.  Indeed, 
when  I  begin  to  think  of  all  the  bright  and  lovely,  refined,  and  altogether  charming 
young  women  I  know  who  are  supporting  themselves,  I  am  sure  that  on  very 
few  of  them  can  rest  the  stigma  of  being  selfish  and  thoughtless. 

Sturdy  and  plump  and  clean  and  fair, 
With  big  blue  eyes  and  a  tangle  of  hair. 
There's  a  little  lassie  who  runs  to  meet 
Her  father's  step  that  rings  on  the  street. 
As,  day  after  day,  at  the  set  of  sun, 
X  Father  comes  home  when  his  work  is  done. 

Making  money  for  wife  and  weans, 
Few  are  the  sheaves  the  good  man  gleans; 
All  day  long  he  is  busy  down -town, 
Snowflakes  sift  where  his  hair  was  brown; 
But  he  starts  for  home  at  an  eager  pace. 
And  love  lights  up  the  care- worn  face. 

For  there  at  the  window  watching  out 

Is  the  little  maid  whose  merry  shout 

Of  "  Daddy  is  here  !  "  in  his  ear  shall  be 

Swift  as  he  turns  his  own  latch-key. 

And  glad  is  the  heart  at  the  set  of  suu 

When  father  goes  home  with  his  day's  work  done. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
A  Talk  About  Dress. 

JOOKING  over  old  fashion  plates    one  cannot  but  be  struck  with  . 
the  way  in  which  history,  so  far  as  clothes  are  concerned,  is  for- 
ever repeating  itself.    Ten  centuries  ago,  or  for  that  matter  twenty 
centuries  ago,  Orientals  dressed  exactly  as  they  do  now.     The 
women  in  Rebekah's  day  covered  themselves  in  veils,  as  they 
do  to  this  hour,  and  the  sheikh  in  the  desert  is  dressed  in  1898  as 
Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  were,  before  the  pyramids  were  built 
or  Rameses  passed  away. 
But  Occidental  fashions  constantly  change.     Wide  skirts  one  year,  narrow 
ones  next.     Balloon  sleeves  to-day,  tight  sleeves  to-morrow.     Poke  bonnets  and 
picture  hats  this  season,  cottage  bonnets  and  trim  toques  next.     Only  nuns  and 
Quakers  wear  anything  like  a  uniform. 

I  was  looking  over  a  set  of  fashion  plates  this  morning,  and  I  saw  a  dame  of 
the  sixteenth  century  dressed  in  the  identical  costume  we  have  worn  this  year. 
Frills,  ruffles,  waist,  collar,  sleeves,  skirt,  every  detail  of  trimming  are  repeated 
in  the  gown  and  general  effect  of  the  toilette  by  our  maidens  and  matrons  now. 
The  hat  is  just  the  same.  The  hand  on  the  dial  has  completed  the  circle,  and  in 
the  end  of  the  nineteenth  century  we  dress  as  women  in  good  society  did  in 
Europe  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth. 

A  fanciful  writer  discovers  some  interesting  points  of  resemblance  between 
dress  and  architecture.  Thus  he  tells  us  that  "  a  house  is  a  garment;  it  is  raiment 
in  stone  or  wood  which  we  put  on  over  our  vesture  of  linen,  wool,  velvet  or  silk, 
for  our  better  protection  against  weather;  it  is  a  second  garb  which  must  mould 
itself  to  the  shape  of  the  first,  unless  indeed  it  be  the  first  that  adapts  itself  to  the 
necessities  of  the  second. 

"Are  not,  for  example,  the  pictorial  and  emblazoned  gowns,  the  cut-out, 
snipped-up  costumes  of  the  Middle  Ages  Gothic  architecture  of  the  most  flam- 
boyant kind,  just  as  the  more  rude  and  simple  fashions  of  the  preceding  period 
belong  to  the  rude  and  severe  Roman  style  ? 

' '  When  stone  is  cut  and  twisted  and  made  to  flash  into  magnificent  sculptured 
efflorescence,    the  more    suppie  textile    fabric  is  cut  and    twisted  and   made  to 

(188) 


THE  ROMAN   STyi.E  OF  DRESS. 


(189) 


I90  A   TALK   ABOUT   DRESS. 

effloresce  also.  The  tall  head-dresses  which  we  call  extravagant  are  the  tapering 
tops  of  the  turrets  which  rise  from  everywhere  toward  the  sky.  Everything  is 
many  colored,  for  the  people  of  those  days  loved  bright  tints,  and  the  whole 
gamut  of  the  yellows,  reds  and  greens  is  employed. 

"  How  superb  they  were!  Those  belles  of  the  Middle  Ages  with  their  long, 
clinging  gowns,  ornamented  profusely  with  gold  and  silver.  At  this  time,  and  for 
long  after,  there  were  edicts  which  restricted  women  in  their  dress.  Philip  the 
Fair  issued  very  peremptory  enactments  forbidding  ermine  and  miniver  to  common 
people,  and  prohibiting  them  from  wearing  golden  girdles  set  with  pearls  and 
precious  stones.  One  pair  of  gowns  per  year  was,  in  this  sovereign's  opinion, 
quite  enough  for  a  young  woman  of  ordinary  fortune,  and  two  pairs  sufficed  for  a 
woman  of  independent  means." 

The  history  of  fashion  is  full  of  interest  and  romance.  The  farthingale,  or 
wide  skirt,  supported  by  some  mechanical  contrivance,  came  in  and  has  held  its 
own  for  three  hundred  years.  Pannier,  hoop,  crinoline,  bustle,  pouf,  we  have  had 
it  in  its  various  phases,  and  have  not  seen  the  last  of  it  3^et. 

'  "We  are  at  present  very  independent  in  one  sense,  and  very  far  from  free  in 
another,  as  regards  our  dress.  No  law  threatens  us  with  penalties,  let  us  wear 
what  we  will,  and  fashion  equally  wins  its  wa}'  with  the  queen  and  the  humblest 
wage-earner.  Each  may  wear  what  she  chooses.  Each  must  be  ruled  only  by 
her  sense  of  what  is  fit  and  appropriate,  and  by  her  purse. 

We  require  a  ceremonious  and  formal  dress,  an  elegant  dress,  ornate  and 
sumptuous  for  great  occasions,  for  the  wedding  and  the  stately  dinner,  and  the 
evening  party  and  reception.  For  every  day  and  business  wear  a  short,  simple 
serge  answers  every  purpose.  For  the  kitchen  nothing  surpasses  calico  and 
gingham.  A  dress  has  no  beauty  unless  it  is  suited  to  the  occasion  and  to  the 
wearer. 

As  a  general  rule,  a  lady  should  not  try  to  produce  too  youthful  an  effect  in 
her  clothing.  Her  face  should  be  younger  than  her  bonnet.  Excessive  gayety  in 
feathers  and  flowers,  a  straining  after  the  lost  bloom  and  an  overloading  of  finery, 
accentuates  wrinkles  and  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  old  age  has  arrived.  A 
grandmother  must  not  array  herself  like  a  young  lady  in  her  teens. 

lyong  and  trailing  skirts,  while  very  beautiful  in  the  house,  are  suitable  only 
for  the  drawing  room  and  have  no  place  or  propriety  in  the  street,  the  office,  or 
the  shop.  They  are  inconvenient  when  they  must  be  carried  in  one  hand  lest 
they  touch  a  pavement,  and  they  are  a  menace  to  health  if  suffered  to  come  in 
contact  with  sidewalks  and  roadways,  where  all  sorts  of  germs  abound. 

The  sensible  and  judicious  woman  wears  a  short  walking  dress,  devoid  of 
needless  trimming,  on  her  excursions  abroad  and  on  the  rainy  day.  To  church, 
also  she  goes  very  plainly  and  very  simply  attired. 


A   TALK   ABOUT   DRESS.  191 

If  women  who  wish  to  be  well  dressed  would  spend  less  time  and  thought  on 
their  gowns  and  wraps,  and  more  on  their  bonnets,  gloves  and  shoes,  the  effect 


"And  the  evening  party  and  receptions." 

they  desire  to  obtain  would  more  easily  satisfy  them.     The  gown  is  of  course 
important,    but    the    richer   it  is    the    more  necessary  is   it    that   every   detail 


192  A  TAI,K   ABOUT   DRESS. 

of  its  trimming  and  finishing — every  little  thing  about  the  costume — should 
match  it.  The  whole  effect  of  a  beautiful  afternoon  toilette  can  be  marred  by  a 
soiled  or  tawdry-looking  pair  of  gloves,  by  shoes  which  do  not  suit  the  dress,  or 
by  a  hat  which  is  apparently  meant  for  somebody  else  than  the  wearer.  The  best 
dressed  women  in  the  world,  from  an  artistic  point  of  view,  are  those  who  have 
adopted  a  certain  style — a  uniform  which  they  wear  all  the  time,  as,  for  instance, 
the  Friends,  with  their  beautiful  shades  of  dove  color  and  gray,  or  certain  orders 
of  charitable  sisterhoods,  whose  dress  is  appointed  for  them. 

One  sometimes  wonders  why  women  of  middle  age  so  often  blunder  in  the 
choice  of  their  gowns.  For  instance,  a  lady  approaching  fifty,  rather  short  and 
stout,  with  hair  turning  gray,  who  would  look  well  in  a  solid  color  or  in  black, 
has  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  buy  for  herself  a  checked  dress  or  a  staring  plaid, 
or,  worse  still,  a  limp  wool  material  of  some  kind  with  gay  and  garish  flowers 
stamped  all  over  it.  I  remember  the  pride  with  which  a  friend  of  mine  showed 
me  one  day  a  purple  gown  she  had  just  bought,  on  which  were  green  and  yellow 
flowers.  The  material  would  have  been  pretty  for  some  upholstered  chair  or  for 
a  portiere  in  a  room  which  needed  lighting  up  because  it  had  not  enough  sun,  but 
made  up  for  its  wearer  it  was  simply  shocking,  and  set  her  at  once  out  of  harmony 
with  everything  in  the  room  in  which  she  sat,  and  with  everything  in  any  room. 
The  same  lady  simply  dressed  in  a  black  gown  would  have  looked  refined  and 
elegant.  This  is  why  it  is  sometimes  an  immense  improvement  to  a  woman  to 
adopt  a  mourning  dress,  the  severe  outlines  and  solid  hues  of  which  are  not  so 
trying  to  her  as  the  glaring  contrasts  into  which  her  lack  of  taste  suffers  her  to 
fall. 

Speaking  of  gloves,  those  which  wear  best  are  of  a  dark  shade  of  brown  or 
a  pronounced  shade  of  tan;  pale  yellow,  ecrus  and  the  white  gloves  stitched  with 
black  which  have  been  popular  recently,  soil  with  provoking  celerity;  and  a  soiled 
glove  does  not  look  ladylike. 

As  for  shoes,  for  outdoor  wear  in  cold  weather  they  should  be  thick,  with 
broad,  comfortable  soles,  and  the  shoe  should  be  a  little  longer  than  the  foot. 
For  indoor  wear  any  light,  thin  shoe  may  be  worn,  but  it  should  not  be  used  out 
of  doors. 

Bonnets  are,  upon  the  whole,  the  most  trying  accessories  of  a  woman's  cos- 
tume. Sometimes  they  are  immense,  like  coal  scuttles  or  three-decker  ships,  and 
then  again  they  are  little  tiny  affairs  which  rest  on  the  head  like  a  flake  of  snow. 
Women  have  been  known  to  go  serenely  down  the  street  unaware  that  their  hats 
have  blown  off  in  the  days  when  these  were  very  small.  Our  present  fashion, 
however,  of  fastening  on  our  hats  with  long  pins  makes  this  catastrophe  less 
dangerous  than  once.  In  choosing  a  bonnet  one  must  not  be  guided  by  the 
milliner's  taste  alone.    The  shape  of  the  head  should  determine  the  kind  of  bonnet 


A   TALK   ABOUT   DRESS. 


193 


worn,  and  some  concessions  should  be  made  to  the  age,  complexion  and  general 
style  of  dress  of  the  wearer. 

It  may  be  remarked  in  passing  that  men  frequently  blame  women  for  extrava- 
gance when  they  see  women  beautifully  dressed,  the  fact  being  that  very  well 
dressed  women  often  spend  only  small  sums  on  their  wardrobes.  For  instance,  a 
lady  the  other  evening  appeared  at  a  dinner  in  a  gown  so  beautiful  that  her  friends 
who  were  intimate  complimented  her  about  it  afterward.  They  supposed  it  to  be 
a  creation  of  the  present  season,  whereas  she  explained  that  it  was  really  ten  years 
old,  and  had  gone  through  several  changes  from  one  year  to  another,  having  just 
come  out  from  the  latest  transformation  with  its  white  lace  and  new  rit)bon,  so 
bright  and  pretty  that  it  really  looked  as  if  bought  yesterday. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
Anniversaries  in  the  Home. 

jo  we  always  make  as  much  as  we  might  of  home  anniversaries?     Every 
Uniltiw    birthday  should  be  a  home  festival.     When  the  wedding  day  comes 
jj^Ji;^  round,   it  should  be  kept  as  a  gala  day  in  the  home  life.     If  there  is 
i^~>^       some  signal  event  in  the  family  life  which  you  wish  to  remember, 
p  i    always  keep  the  day  of  its  recurrence  with  a  special  gift  or  greeting. 
/  \^    There  are  homes  in  which  the  humdrum  routine  of  life  is  seldom  broken, 
{      and  where  birthdays  come  and  birthdays  go,  and  nobody  is  the  wiser.    In 
•,     other   homes,   the  cake,  with  its  biithday  candles,    the   gifts   upon   the 
child's  plate  at  breakfast,  the  flowers,  the  little  extra  feast,  the  com- 
pany invited  in,  and  the  general  air  of  a  holiday  about  the  house,  signalize  the 
time  as  something  very  sweet  and  pleasant,  a  time  of  gladness  and  gratitude. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  in  all  Christian  homes  Easter  and  Christmas  are  kept 
with  appropriate  and  joyous  feeling,  and  that  the  children  are  made  especially' 
happy  when  these  great  days  come  round.  Christmas  is,  of  course,  more  than 
any  other  day  in  the  year,  the  children's  day  of  supreme  felicity,  but  from  eight 
to  eighty  we  may  all  b3  children  when  we  celebrate  the  world's  greatest  birthday 
— that  of  Christ,  our  I^ord.  His  resurrection  day  is  equally  a  time  of  joy  and 
gladness.  Among  our  American  anniversaries  the  Fourth  of  July  naturally 
holds  high  place,  and  patriotism  can  be  kindled  and  encouraged  by  our  celebration 
of  our  national  independence  day.  Then  we  have  Memorial  Da^^  when  we  lay 
flowers  on  the  graves  of  our  dead  heroes;  and  Washington's  Birthday  and 
Lincoln's  Birthday,  which  we  celebrate  in  memory  of  two  of  our  greatest  men — 
two  of  the  greatest  men  the  world  has  ever  seen. 

We  need  not  fear  the  multiplication  of  holidays.  Life  is  more  or  less  a  grind 
for  most  of  us,  and  whenever  there  comes  a  blessed  little  break  in  the  routine,  we 
may  be  thankful  for  it,  and  avail  ourselves  of  it  with  all  our  hearts.  Thanks- 
giving Day  is  peculiarly  a  national  fete  day  for  Americans.  Begun  by  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers,  when  they  had  wrested  the  first  scanty  harvest  from  the  reluctant  fields 
of  New  England,  it  was  an  acknowledgment  of  the  kind  and  fostering  care  that 
had  led  them  over  the  sea  and  brought  them  safe  to  shores  where  their  freedom  to 
worship  God  could  be  unchallenged.     It  has  more  and  more  become  a  home  day, 


WHAX   SANTA   BROUGHT. 


(195) 


196  ANNIVERSARIES    IN    THE    HOME. 

kept  perhaps  more  universally  in  the  Middle  States  and  New  England  than  in  the 
West  and  South,  and  yet  it  should  never  be  suffered  to  lose  its  character,  nor  be 
passed  by  carelessly  in  any  part  of  our  broad  land.  One  of  its  special  character- 
istics is  the  gathering  of  people  in  the  morning  of  the  day  to  acknowledge  God's 
goodness  in  public  worship.  After  this  comes  the  home  gathering,  and  for  days 
before  Thanksgiving  everj^  train  is  filled  with  people  returning  to  the  old  roof-tree, 
so  far  as  New  England  is  concerned.  You  see  the  boys  grown  gray  returning 
from  California  and  the  West  to  sit  beside  the  dear  old  father  and  mother  in  the 
homestead,  and  there  are  merry  groups  of  children  and  grandchildren  all  gath- 
ered around  the  table,  and  keeping  up  the  mirth  till  the  evening  shades  fall. 

Our  character  as  a  nation  is  apt  to  be  a  trifle  too  grave  and  sombre.  We  are 
prone  to  be  thoughtful  and  sedate,  but  sometimes  we  may  unbend,  and  we  cannot 
better  do  so  than  on  occasions  of  cither  national  significance  or  on  the  simple 
home  anniversaries,  which  each  family  may  keep  for  itself  The  fact  is,  we  work 
pretty  hard,  and  work  takes  the  mirth  out  of  us. 

A  children's  party  is  by  no  means  a  difficult  undertaking,  nor  need  it  cost 
very  much  money,  but  it  makes  a  child  supremely  happy.  A  children's  party 
should  be  given  in  the  daytime,  or  if  in  the  evening  the  early  evening  hours  should 
be  chosen.  From  four  to  eight  is  a  very  good  time  to  choose.  Let  the  invitation  for 
a  birthday  party  be  written  either  by  the  child's  own  hand,  or  by  that  of  mother 
or  sister.  Where  a  child  is  old  enough  to  do  this  for  herself  or  himself,  it  is  very 
proper  to  commit  the  task  to  him  or  her.  The  invitations  may  be  very  simple, 
and,  preferably',  should  be  written  in  the  first  person;  the  third  person  being  too 
formal.  They  may,  however,  be  written  in  the  third  person  if  the  mother  prefers 
this  style,  as,  "  Miss  Edith  Bartley  requests  the  pleasure  of  Miss  Mary  Howard's 
company  at  a  birthday  party  on  Monday,  April  ii,  from  four  to  eight  o'clock." 

When  the  little  children  come  they  may  have  games  and  other  pleasing 
entertainment;  as,  for  instance,  a  story  told  by  an  older  young  lady;  forfeits,  or 
anything  which  presents  itself  as  agreeable  to  the  mother.  A  peanut  hunt  or  a 
game  of  hide-and-seek  to  find  presents,  which  have  been  tucked  away  in  diiferent 
corners,  is  very  interesting.  The  birthday  supper  need  not  be  elaborate,  but 
children  like  to  have  on  such  occasions  besides  the  birthday  cake,  bonbons, 
mottoes,  and  what  to  most  little  ones  is  a  treat — ice  cream.  A  candy  pull  is  always 
popular  at  a  birthday  party.  Should  you  decide  to  have  this,  provide  the  children 
with  large  aprons  to  wear  over  their  best  clothes,  so  that  they  will  not  become 
spoiled  with  molasses  or  flour.  Then  let  them  flock  into  the  kitchen,  provide 
them  with  flour  to  keep  the  candy  from  sticking  to  their  hands,  and  let  them  pull 
at  their  discretion. 

I  heard  the  other  day  a  very  pretty  little  story  regarding  a  birthday  party 
given  to  one  of  her  children  by  a  beautiful   and  popular  lady,   the  wife   of  an 


COMING  TO  SPEND  THE   HOLIDAYS. 


(197) 


198  ANNIVERSARIES   IX   THE   HOME. 

ex-President  of  the  United  States.  Her  home  is  in  a  little  town  where  class 
■distinctions  are  very  marked.  Invitations  were  sent  to  many  little  girls,  among 
them  being  the  daughter  of  a  poor  man  who  had  been  asked  with  the  others;  where- 
upon one  priggish  child  seeing  this  little  girl,  who  was  not  in  her  particular  set, 
said:  "  I  do  not  think  mamma  would  like  me  to  associate  with  such  a  little  girl 
as  that."  This  child  was  accompanied  by  a  maid  who  took  upon  her  to  remon- 
strate with  the  hostess:  "  I  think  Mrs.  Blank  would  not  like  her  daughter  to 
associate  with  that  child."  The  lady  very  properly  answered:  "  If  that  is  the 
■case,  3'ou  are  quite  at  liberty  to  take  your  little  charge  home,  but  I  invite  to  my 
liouse  to  meet  my  little  daughter  any  one  I  please." 

From  un-American  and  undemocratic  ideas  instilled  into  babes  and  sucklings 
we  can  but  cry  with  all  our  hearts,  ' '  Good  lyord,  deliver  us  !  " 

Beside  the  anniversaries  which  we  keep  among  our  friends  and  at  the  fireside, 
most  of  us  have  other  days  sacredly  set  apart  which,  it  may  be,  only  God  knows  of, 
and  of  which  we  do  not  often  speak.  A  little  mark  in  our  every-daj-  book,  a 
penciled  line  under  a  text,  a  furrow  in  the  earth  where  a  bed  has  been  made  for  all 
that  was  mortal  of  one  of  God's  saints,  a  date  which  means  for  us  more  than  for 
others,  and  the  whole  past  awakens,  the  present  drops  away,  we  are  back  again 
in  the  sweet  fields  of  jouth.  A  waft  of  perfume,  a  strain  of  music,  a  chance 
word  in  conversation  have  power  to  revive  a  whole  sheaf  of  memories  at  any  time, 
but  our  special  personal  anniversaries  do  no  require  these  reminders.  Always  for 
some  of  us  there  is  a  month,  and  a  day  of  the  month,  and  an.  hour  in  the  day  when 
life  is  sadder  colored  than  its  usual  wont,  when  we  have  need  to  lay  hold  on 
strength  that  is  greater  than  ours,  and  when,  indeed,  we  enter  into  our  closets, 
and  shut  our  doors,  and  pray  to  our  Father  who  seeth  in  secret. 

Few  lives  there  are  which,  having  been  extended  beyond  3-outh,  have  not 
"known  the  moulding  touches  of  pain.  In  God's  economy  pain  comes  as  the  gra- 
cious refiner,  so  that  the  noblest  and  most  loft}^  souls  we  know  seem  to  have  had 
most  of  its  discipline.  Pain  accepted  as  God's  gift,  pain  looked  upon  as  God's 
angel,  in  the  last  analysis  brings  out  all  that  is  best  and  most  abiding  in  character. 
Only  when  we  fret  at  pain  and  gird  at  it,  quarrel  with  it  and  resist  it  in  fierce  rebel- 
lion does  it  produce  bitterness  and  sharpness  rather  than  sweetness  and  strength. 

Of  these  heart  anniversaries  the  larger  part  have  to  do  with  gloom  and  sorrow 
of  some  sort.  There  was  one,  dear  as  our  own  lives,  but  the  time  had  not  come 
for  the  love  to  be  told  to  the  world,  and  even  our  own  world  of  home  knew  noth- 
ing, suspected  nothing.  To  friends  and  acquaintances  the  attentions  seemed  mere 
commonplaces,  and  no  deeper  sentiment  was  so  much  as  thought  of,  so  that  when 
death  came  suddenly  there  was  no  knowledge  that  one  was  taken  and  the  other 
left — the  other  left,  not  to  the  royal  purple  of  wndowhood,  but  to  the  sober  gray 
of  a  life  out  of  which  color  and  flavor  had  gone,  but  which  must  be  quietly  borne 


ANNIVERSARIES   IN   THE   HOME.  199 

alone.  There  are  such  bereavements,  and  their  anniversaries  are  kept  all  the  way 
on  till  old  age  comes  and  death  reunites. 

Some  of  us  must  number  among  our  heart  anniversaries  the  mistakes  of 
judgment  into  which  we  were  once  impulsively  led,  and  which,  so  far  as  we  were 
concerned,  had  results  impossible  to  foresee  and  were  stepping-stones  to  inevitable 
disaster.  "  If  I  could  only  put  myself  back  where  I  stood  one  summer  day,  ten, 
twenty  years  ago,  at  the  parting  of  the  ways,  how  thankful  I  would  be,  and  how 
differently  I  would  act."  We  say  this,  but  the  summer  day  will  never  dawn 
when  we  can  retrieve  our  mistake.  Always,  as  it  returns  with  the  scent  of  honey- 
suckle and  the  song  of  the  robin,  we  live  it  over  and  are  troubled  in  spirit,  and 
sometimes  remorseful,  and  sometimes  half-despairing. 

But  about  such  an  anniversary  it  is  better  to  heap  violets  of  tender  penitence 
than  to  wreath  it  with  the  bitter  rue.  After  all,  we  probably  acted  as  we  then 
thought  best,  and  with  what  light  we  had,  and  as  our  ways  and  words  are  under 
God's  overruling  providence,  it  is  not  right  to  mourn  too  heavily  over  anything 
which  is  done  with.  To  leave  it  with  God  is  better,  and  to  go  on,  to  "  act,  act  in 
the  living  present,  heart  within  and  God  o'erhead. " 

"  Such  or  such  a  one  has  gotten  over  her  grief,"  we  remark,  observing  that 
the  grief  is  put  bravely  in  the  background  where,  after  the  first,  it  should  always 
be,  and  that  the  sufferer  has  taken  up  her  life  again.  But  nobody  ever  quite  gets 
over  a  great  grief  or  is  ever  the  same  again,  even  though  she  wear  a  smile  and 
join  in  mirth  and  walk  with  uplifted  head.  A  great  grief  sets  its  stamp  on  the 
life  once  for  all.  Nobody  speaks  of  little  Aleck  or  Joe,  who  was  snatched  away 
so  suddenly  seven  years  ago,  but  his  mother  keeps  both  his  birthdays  always  in 
her  heart — the  one  when  he  came  to  her  arms  and  the  one  when  he  began  the 
heavenly  life.  The  father  remembers,  though  he  seldom  speaks  of  the  son  who 
passed  from  his  side  in  the  pride  of  his  early  manhood.  The  wound  heals,  but  the 
scar  remains,  and  the  effect  is  visible  in  the  readier  tact,  the  gentler  compassion, 
and  the  more  loving  art  in  dealing  with  others  who  are  stricken  or  tried. 


The  Dear  Little  Wife  at  Home. 

The  dear  little  wife  at  home,  John, 

With  ever  so  much  to  do. 
Stitches  to  set  and  babies  to  pet, 

And  so  many  thoughts  of  you- 
The  beautiful  household  fairy. 

Filling  your  heart  with  light. 
Whatever  you  meet  to-day,  John, 

Go  cheerily  home  to-night. 


200  COMFORT. 

For  though  you  are  worn  and  weary, 

You  needn't  be  cross  or  curt; 
There  are  words  like  darts  to  gentle  hearts, 

There  are  looks  that  wound  and  hurt. 
With  the  key  in  the  latch  at  home,  John, 

Drop  troubles  out  of  sight; 
To  the  dear  little  wife  who  is  waiting, 

Go  cheerily  home  to-night. 

You  know  she  will  come  to  meet  you, 

A  smile  on  her  sunny  face; 
And  your  wee  little  girl,  as  pure  as  a  pearl. 

Will  be  there  in  her  childish  grace; 
And  the  boy,  his  father's  pride,  John, 

With  eyes  so  brave  and  bright; 
From  the  strife  and  the  din  to  the  peace,  John, 

Go  cheerily  home  to-night. 

What  though  the  tempter  try  you, 

Though  the  shafts  of  adverse  fate 
May  bustle  near  and  the  sky  be  drear, 

And  the  laggard  fortune  wait  ? 
You  are  passing  rich  already, 

Let  the  haunting  fears  take  flight, 
With  the  faith  that  wins  success,  John, 

Go  cheerily  home  to-night. 


Comfort. 


Be  not  disheartened,  brother. 

Though  weary  the  task  you  try; 
Strength  will  come  with  the  toiling — 

You  will  finish  it  by  and  by. 
Then  sweet  in  your  ear  at  sunset, 

When  the  day's  long  course  is  run, 
Will  sound  the  voice  of  the  Master, 

And  His  word  of  praise,  "Well  done!" 


COMFORT.  20X 


Be  not  disheartened,  brother, 

Though  you  lose  your  precious  things- 
Though  the  gold  you  gained  so  slowly 

Fly  as  on  the  swiftest  wings. 
There  are  better  than  earthly  riches, 

And  loss  is  sometimes  gain; 
Wait  for  the  Lord's  good  hour, 

When  He'll  make  His  meaning  plain. 

Be  not  disheartened,  brother, 

In  the  dark  and  lonesome  day, 
When  the  dearest  and  the  truest 

From  your  arms  is  caught  away. 
The  earth  may  be  bare  and  silent, 

But  heaven  is  just  before; 
And  your  path  leads  up  to  the  splendor 

And  the  love  in  its  open  door. 

Be  not  disheartened,  brother, 

However  you  may  fare; 
For  here  'tis  the  pilgrim's  portion, 

But  the  song  and  feast  are  there. 
There  in  the  dear  I^ord's  presence, 

There  in  the  halls  of  home. 
You  will  one  day  hear  Him  call  you, 

And  cry  with  joy,  "  I  come!" 

Be  not  disheartened,  brother, 

For  every  step  of  the  road 
Is  under  the  eye  of  the  Father, 

Who  measures  the  weight  of  the  load. 
He  cares  for  the  tiny  sparrows. 

And  how  much  more  for  you! 
Look  up  and  never  doubt  Him — 

His  promises  all  are  true. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 
The  Family  Medicine  Chest. 

HAKESPE ARE'S  famous  advice  to  throw  physic  to  the  dogs 
is  not  without  its  sensible  application  to  us  in  all  vicissi- 
tudes of  life.  The  habit  of  frequently  taking  medicine  is 
as  unfortunate  a  one  as  can  well  be  imagined,  and  in  its  train 
come  marching  swiftly  many  disasters  to  the  human  frame. 
Certain  illnesses  the  flesh  is  heir  to,  no  doubt,  but  taking  the' days 
as  they  come,  those  people  are  in  the  best  health  and  spirits  who 
give  nature  a  fair  chance,  look  at  life  in  the  attitude  of  Wordsworth's  pilgrim, 
who  was  a  man  of  cheerful  yesterdays  and  confident  to-morrows,  and  who,  on 
every  occasion,  expect  to  be  well.    Optimism  pa3"S  in  the  long  run. 

An  old  colored  Auntie  whom  I  knew  in  the  South  just  after  the  war,  and  who 
was  reall}-  a  picture  of  vigor  and  strength,  would  never  confess  to  being  anything 
but  ill,  and  her  invariable  reply  to  all  inquiries  about  her  health  was  "  Miserable, 
thank  you. "  There  are  even  people  who  boast  of  enjoying  poor  health,  but  their 
number  is  fewer  than  formerly,  and  most  of  us  have  learned  that  it  is  creditable 
to  be  well,  and  a  matter  for  sympathy  and  regret  to  be  ill. 

Many  common  illnesses  and  some  serious  diseases  are  largely  within  our  own 
control.  We  ma)'^  have  them  or  not,  as  we  please.  Diphtheria  and  typhoid  fever, 
for  instance,  are  diseases  born  of  unfortunate  sanitary  conditions,  and  are  prevent- 
able by  attention  to  the  laws  of  drainage  and  by  inexorable  cleanliness  about  our 
habitations.  Most  diseases  which  are  carried  about  by  germs — and  we  have 
learned  to  know  that  germs  fly  about  on  the  wings  of  the  wind — may  be  avoided 
by  keeping  the  body  in  a  state  of  poise  and  of  comfortable  health.  It  is  when  we 
are  tired,  for  instance,  that  we  most  easily  take  cold.  When  we  are  faint  and 
famished  the  evil  thing  seizes  upon  us  as  i.*-  lioes  not  when  we  have  been  well  fed 
and  nourished. 

All  this  being  acknowledged,  it  is  still  a  good  thing  for  every  family  in  which 
there  are  young  children  or  old  people  to  have  on  hand  a  simple  medicine  chest  in 
which  are  certain  remedies,  time-honored  and  efficient,  which  may  be  turned  to 
in  the  hour  of  need.  Where  there  are  children  who  are  always  b}^  the  way  of 
having  accidents,  and  who  may  be  burned  or  bruised  or  cut,  it  is  a  measure  of  pre- 
caution to  have  on  hand  something  which  may  be  applied  in   case  of  need  before 

(202') 


THK   FAMILY   MEDICINE    CHEST.  203 

the  doctor  comes.  Thus  linseed  oil  and  lime  water  is  an  admirable  remedy  for 
burns;  flour  instantly  applied  to  a  burned  or  scalded  place  shuts  out  the  air  and 
gives  relief. 

There  should  be  on  hand  a  supply  of  old  linen  and  lint,  also  of  absorbent  cotton, 
in  case  these  are  needed;  sticking  plaster  and  some  good  salve,  either  of  domestic 
manufacture,  or  else  some  such  thing  as  salvacea  or  vaseline,  or  other  tried  and 
approved  emollient;  and  an  excellent  cold  cream  or  camphor  ice  will  be  handy  to 
have  in  the  house.  Paregoric  is  an  old-fashioned  remedy,  useful  in  certain  condi- 
tions; camphor  is  of  almost  universal  excellence;  essence  of  peppermint  poured 
upon  camphor  gum  makes  an  excellent  remedy  for  toothache;  and  extract  of  witch 
hazel  should  always  be  on  the  shelf,  as  also  tincture  of  arnica  for  the  relief  of 
pain. 

Mustard  leaves  which  come  ready  for  use  are  admirable  in  cases  of  nausea, 
applied  to  the  pit  of  the  stomach,  and  are  also  excellent  for  relieving  pain.  The 
ordinary  homemade  mustard  poultice  should  always  be  mixed  either  with  molasses 
or  white  of  egg  to  keep  it  from  blistering  a  sensitive  skin,  and  it  should  be  made 
in  the  proportion  of  one  part  mustard  to  two  parts  flour  or  corn  meal,  unless 
a  very  strong  plaster  is  required,  when  equal  parts  of  the  mustard  and  flour  or 
corn  meal  may  be  used. 

Because  one  has  these  things  close  by  and  within  reach  it  does  not  at  all 
follow  that  they  will  be  in  frequent  use — they  are  only  admirable  as  helps  in  time 
of  need.  A  suppl)-  of  alcohol,  a  vSmall  teakettle  and  spirit  lamp,  and  a  hot  water 
bag — and  the  domestic  machinery  to  fight  sudden  illness  may  be  considered  almost 
complete.  There  are  charming  little  water  bags  to  be  had  now,  just  large  enough 
to  hold  against  the  face  when  there  is  earache  or  toothache,  and  remember  that  a 
few  drops  of  hot  water  very  carefully  dropped  into  the  ear  otlen  soothe  an  obsti- 
nate earache.  Also,  most  old-fashioned  mothers  are  aware  that  the  roasted  heart 
of  an  onion  is  a  very  admirable  prescription  for  earache,  applied,  of  course,  while 
hot,  the  chief  efficac}'  being  in  the  amount  of  caloric  an  onion  with  its  many 
involutions  can  retain  for  an  almost  indefinite  period. 

Children  should  be  accustomed  to  make  light  of  their  little  tumbles  and  acci- 
dents. There  is  a  brave  way  of  bearing  pain  which  may  be  learned  in  early  life, 
and  the  habit  of  self-control  once  acquired  stands  one  in  good  stead  in  the  various 
hours  of  physical  trouble  and  distress  which  are  bound  to  come  sooner  or  later. 

Speaking  of  cuts  and  scratches,  burns  and  bruises,  and  other  minor  ills  which 
happen  in  the  family,  Mrs.  Dinah  Sturgis,  writing  in  Harper' s  Bazar,  has  given 
directions  which  are  well  worth  observing  in  every  household: 

"  First  and  foremost  in  point  of  frequency  is  the  scratch.  It  often  comes 
smartingly  to  light  without  one  even  knowing  whence  it  came  to  be.  On  some 
skins  a  pin -scratch  will  disappear  as  easily  as  it  came;  other  skins  poison  more 


chii,drbn's  accidents  and  tumbles. 


(204) 


THE    FAMILY    MEDICINE    CHEvST.  205 

quickly,  and  a  scratcli  means,  if  allowed  its  own  way,  a  painful  ridge  that  may 
suppurate  if  the  scratch  be  a  deep  one.  One  of  the  simplest  remedies  is  to  bathe 
the  afflicted  part  in  spirit  of  camphor,  a  bottle  of  which  should  be  always  on 
liand.  Do  not  soil  the  contents  of  the  bottle  by  dipping  even  the  cleanest  fingers 
in  it  each  time  it  is  opened.  Instead,  jx)ur  a  few  drops  upon  a  piece  of  clean  old 
linen,  and  gently  moisten  the  scratched  surface  of  the  skin.  The  first  momentary 
sting  will  pass  oif  at  once.  Repeat  the  camphor  bath  once  or  oftener  according  to 
the  nature  of  the  wounded  surface. 

'  'A  drop  or  two  of  spirit  of  camphor  dropped  into  a  half-glass  of  cold  water  and 
■drunken  will  often  dislodge  a  headache  that  comes  from  a  disordered  stomach.  A 
few  drops  of  camphor  poured  upon  a  handkerchief  and  held  to  the  nose  will 
freqiientl}'  dissipate  a  headache  more  efficaciously  than  many  of  the  patent  reme- 
dies, and  is  far  safer  than  to  swallow  drugs  unless  they  are  administered  by  one's 
physician.  It  is  not  necessary  to  pa}'  the  price  asked  in  the  drug-shops  for  spirit 
of  camphor.  Break  into  a  clean  bottle  some  camphor-gum,  the  ordinary  gum  of 
commerce,  and  add  proof-spirit  of  alcohol  to  make  a  saturated  solution  (one  that 
will  not  take  up  any  more  of  the  gum).  For  use  pour  a  little  of  this  into  another 
small  bottle,  and  dilute  with  a  fourth  more  alcohol  if  it  is  not  liked  so  strong. 

' '  From  scratches  to  cuts.  If  any  cut  bleeds  profusely  in  jets  or  spurts  of  bright 
red  blood,  tie  something  tightlj'  above  cr  below  the  wound,  to  bring  the  ligature 
"between  the  cut  and  the  heart,  and  meantime  send  for  a  physician;  a  cut  artery, 
which  is  what  this  state  of  affairs  indicates,  is  not  within  the  province  of  the 
amateur  to  treat.  In  the  case  also  of  an  extensive  cut,  or  a  painfully  deep  and 
jagged  one,  a  surgeon's  services  should  be  asked  for  at  once.  But  the  common 
sliglU  cut,  such  as  Young  America,  and  very  often  the  house-mother  herself,  suffer 
frequentl}',  serious  as  it  ma}'-  be  if  not  treated  properly,  can  be  very  well  taken  care 
of  at  home  with  a  minimum  of  discomfort. 

' '  First  allow  the  wound  to  stop  bleeding.  Iced  applications  will  control  profuse 
"bleeding;  so  will  holding  the  hand,  if  that  be  the  injured  member,  above  the 
head.  If  the  cut  is  on  one  of  the  lower  extremities,  lie  down  and  elevate  the  foot. 
The  flowing  of  the  blood  is  an  excellent  provision  of  nature  for  washing  the 
wound  clean  in  case  anj-  external  matter  has  been  carried  into  the  cut  along  with 
the  blade,  so  do  not  allow  the  sight  of  the  blood  to  excite  apprehension.  As  soon  as 
the  flow  is  controlled,  hold  the  wound  over  a  basin  and  pour  over  it  slowly  from  a 
pitcher  water  as  hot  as  can  be  borne  by  the  skin ;  this  water  should  have  been 
boiled  and  allowed  to  cool  off  in  the  same  vessel  to  the  using  temperature.  No 
matter  how  careful  a  housekeeper  has  washed  the  pitcher  which  receives  the  water 
from  the  heater,  see  that  it  is  rinsed  in  boiling  water  and  not  wiped  before  the 
water  to  douche  the  wound  is  poured  into  it.  This  precaution  is  necessary  to 
insure  cleanliness  as  the  surgeon  understands  cleanliness — namely,  a  condition  in 


2o6 


THE  FAMILY   MEDICINE  CHEST. 


which  the  bothersome  microscopic  germs  that  cause  suppuration  and  other  evils 

cannot  live. 

"Sterilize  the  fingers  in  hot  water,  and  then  press  the  edges  of  the  wound 

together,  bringing  about  a  perfect  union,  and  when  every  particle  of  oozing  has 

stopped,  dry  the 
wound  and  paint 
the  injured  sur- 
face with  a  coat- 
ing of  flexible 
collodion,  which 
should  be  ap- 
plied with  a  fine 
camel '  s-hair 
brush.  A  small 
bottle  costs  but 
a  few  cents,  and 
if  kept  wrapped 
in  dark  blue  pa- 
per and  stop- 
pered with  rub- 
ber, will  last  a 
long  time.  As- 
sist the  first  coat- 
ing to  dry  by 
gently  blowing 
upon  it,  and  as 
soon  as  it  is  dry 
apply  another 
coat,  and  if  the 
wound  be  a  large 
one,  a  third  one. 
It  will  assist  in 
keeping  the 
wounded  mem- 
ber quiet,  and 
give  the  edges 
of  the  cut  a 
chance  to  unite 
by  '  first  inten- 
. ' '  What  do  you  think,  Doctor  ?  "  t  i  O  n  , '    meaning 


THE  FAMILY   MEDICINE   CHEST.  207 

without  drawbacks,  if  a  small  bandage  is  added.  This  should  be  of  thin  woolen 
material  in  preference  to  cotton  fabric,  as  the  woolen  is  more  porous,  and  being 
elastic,  fits  better. 

' '  When  Bobby  comes  screaming  with  a  poor  little  palm  all  cut  and  scratched 
by  a  fall  on  the  street,  with  gravel  clinging  to  the  inflamed  and  m^iimed  surface, 
the  domestic  surgeon  has  a  labor  of  patience  as  well  as  one  of  love  and  mercy 
upon  her  hands.  Hold  Bobby's  hand  over  a  basin  and  rinse  it  with  a  long-con- 
tinued douche  of  water  prepared  as  outlined  above  for  washing  a  cut.  Those  bits 
of  gravel  or  splinters  that  refuse  to  be  washed  out  must  be  helped  out  gently  with 
a  needle.  Sterilize  this  first  by  passing  it  through  an  alcohol  flame  or  boiling 
water,  and  do  not  rub  the  fingers  over  it  before  it  touches  the  wound.  When  the 
bruised  and  scratched  and  cut  surface  is  quite  clean,  cover  with  a  little  carbolized 
vaseline,  that  may  be  had  cheaply  ot  any  druggist,  and  over  it  lay  a  piece  of  old 
linen,  very  soft,  or  a  layer  of  lint,  and  a  cover  ot  gutta-percha  tissue  similar  to 
that  used  by  dentists  for  dams  in  filling  teeth.  It  costs  but  little,  and  is  very 
useful  in  dressing  wounds,  as  it  protects  the  clothing  from  a  moist  dressing  and 
retains  the  moisture  for  the  benefit  of  the  injury.  Wax-paper  or  any  light  weight 
water-proof  material  can  be  used  in  place  of  the  gutta-percha.  Do  not  tie  a 
bandage  on  with  thread.  Use  elastic  yarn,  or,  better  still,  sew  it  on  with  a  few 
long  stitches. 

"  Bums  are  divided  by  the  surgeons  into  half  a  dozen  grades,  and  even  those 
of  the  first  or  slightest  degree  are  looked  upon  by  them  as  serious  if  any  con- 
siderable portion  of  the  body  suffers.  Theretore,  for  any  burn  that  covers  a 
large  surface,  a  surgeon's  care  is  imperative,  the  resulting  shock  being  a  dan- 
gerous thing,  although  the  surface  of  the  body  may  not  seem  to  have  suffered 
deeply. 

"The  usual  household  catastrophes  in  burns  come  within  the  first  two  grades 
of  the  surgeon's  list — first  those  that  redden  the  surface  merely  and  smart  pain- 
full}^  and  second,  those  that  blister  the  surface  burned  either  in  one  large  or 
several  little  blisters. 

"The  sudden  great  rise  in  temperature  of  the  portion  of  the  skin  that  is 
exposed  to  steam  or  flame  or  a  highly  heated  surface  injures  the  exposed  ends  of 
the  sensory  nerves,  hence  the  exquisite  pain.  The  main  thing  to  do  is  to  at  once 
protect  the  surface  from  the  air,  the  skin  being  now  supersensitive  to  every  breath. 
A  hcmely  but  not-to-be-laughed-at  rem.edy  in  a  slight  burn  is  to  dredge  the  part 
with  flour.  Do  not  heap  and  pack  the  flour  on,  but  sift  it  on  lightly  till  the 
surface  is  well  covered.  Flour  is  always  at  hand,  so  should  be  remembered  as  at  any 
rate  an  immediate  relief.  Better  still,  spread  a  piece  of  linen  (very  soft  and  old) 
with  vaseline  enough  to  completely  cover  the  surface  burned,  and  lay  over  it 
another  covering  of  gutta-percha. 


2o8 


THE   FAMILY  MEDICINE   CHEST. 


"One  of  the  best  applications  for  a  burn  is  Carron  oil,  so  called  from  having 
been  first  used  to  dress  burns  at  the  Carron  furnaces.  It  is  made  of  equal  parts 
of  linseed  oil  and  lime  water.  So  beneficent  a  remedy  should  be  kept  in  the 
house,  and  it  can  be  made  at  home  very  cheaply  if  the  oil  and  a  piece  of  quicklimo 
can  be  had.  Slake  the  lime  by  dropping  it  into  water.  A  white  powder  will  be 
precipitated;  drain  off  the  water,  and  put  the  powder  into  some  cooled  boiled 


'•'•  Call  oil  the  family  doctor  at  once." 

water  and  shake;  when  the  water  has  taken  in  solution  all  of  the  lime  that  it  will 
hold  pour  off  the  liquid  into  a  clean  bottle,  and  the  lime  water  is  ready  for  use. 

"To  dress  a  burn  with  Carron  oil,  wet  a  piece  of  linen  in  it  and  lay  on  the 
wound,  cover  with  gutta-percha  tissue;  as  soon  as  the  linen  dries  wet  again,  and 
continue  to  keep  the  burn  wet  until  the  'fire'  is  out  of  the  wound.  Protect 
the  skin  of  a  burn  until  it  loses  all  sensitiveness,  as  if  once  abraded  it  heals  very 
slowly. 


THE  FAMILY   MEDICINE   CHEST.  209 

"If  the  bum  blisters,  and  the  blister  is  small,  let  it  alone,  as  the  skin  will 
absorb  the  fluid  in  the  blister  in  time.  If  there  is  a  large  blister,  or  several  small 
ones,  open  them  very  carefully  on  the  lowest  dependent  point,  never  on  top. 
Make  a  very  small  opening  with  a  needle  that  has  been  sterilized  before  it  is  put 
into  each  blister,  and  it  is  wise  to  introduce  the  point  of  the  needle  under  a  bit  of 
uninjured  skin  next  the  blister,  and  then  gently  to  express  the  fluid.  Then  cover 
with  a  moist  dressing  made  of  the  Carron  oil.  Exquisite  care  is  necessary  to  pre- 
vent carrying  even  microscopic  dirt  into  an  open  wound,  since  this  external 
interference  of  germs  is  more  apt  than  the  original  injury  itself  to  make  mischief. 

' '  When  Betty  falls  and  bumps  some  portion  of  her  roily  poly  body  the  doctor, 
if  at  hand,  would  order  a  cold  application,  and  as  a  moist  one  is  better  than  dry 
cold,  pound  a  piece  of  ice  and  fold  it  in  a  towel.  If  there  is  no  ice  at  hand  wring 
cloths  from  cold  water,  fold  in  several  layers  and  apply  to  the  bruise  as  often  as 
the  cloths  become  warm;  continue  the  cold  application  for  three  or  four  hours  in 
case  of  a  bad  bruise.  Follow  this  treatment  with  hot  applications,  and  here  again 
moisture  is  desirable;  so,  instead  of  the  hot-water  bag,  wring  cloths  from  hot  water 
and  lay  on  as  often  as  they  cool.  It  is  difficult  to  keep  a  child  still  and  under 
treatment  after  the  first  pain  passes  off;  but  if  after  the  nap  which  usually  follows 
cessation  from  pain,  and  during  which  the  ice  can  be  applied,  baby  gets  up  and 
trots  about,  the  bruise  can  at  least  be  bathed  several  times  with  very  warm  water, 
and  this  will  reduce  the  discoloration.  Gentle  massage  will  help  restore  the  circu- 
lation impeded  by  the  blow,  and  prevent  a  *  black  eye '  or  '  black-and-blue  spot, ' 
but  the  pressure  of  the  ice  or  cold  and  hot  cloths  is  often  all  the  handling  a  bruised 
surface  can  bear.  The  old  wives'  notion  that  a  person  should  not  be  permitted  to 
sleep  after  a  fall  is  moonshine,  and  has  no  scientific  reason  for  being." 

Speaking  of  remedies,  there  is  nothing  of  more  universal  excellence  than  just 
plain  hot  water.  A  hot  compress  laid  on  a  child's  chest  will  soothe  a  fretting 
cough,  and  a  hot  water  foot-bath,  with  mustard,  is  a  time-renowned  preventive 
and  magical  helper  in  domestic  crises,  before  the  doctor  is  sent  for.  Often  the 
child  who  comes  in  from  school  with  aching  head  and  limbs  will  be  all  right  if 
given  a  hot  bath  and  put  to  bed.  Simple  and  prompt  action  will  save  doctors' 
bills.     In  real  illness  call  on  the  family  doctor  at  once. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 
A  Chat  About  Photographs. 

REMEMBER  very  well  when  daguerreotypes  and  ambrotj'pes  first 

came  in.     They  were  the  predecessors  of   the   photographs  which 

are  now  so  common  and  which  have  been  brought  to  such  wonderful 

perfection.     The  first  sun-pictures,  as  we  called  them,  were  enclosed 

in  little  leather  cases,  and  the  centre-tables  of  those  days,  way  back 

in  the  forties,  used  to  be  adorned  with  piles  of  these  little  embossed 

cases  which  were  among  the  precious  possessions  of  ever\'  family-. 

By  swift  degrees  these  pictures  were  superseded  as  the  fine  art  of  the 

*]tf  -^   camera  was  better  understood.     During  the  war  we  had  the  little  carte 

|\    de  visite,   as  well  as   the  imperial  photograph,    and  many  times  as  the 

I     soldiers  sat  by  the  camp-fires  and  read  the  letters  which  came  from  home 

1     out  from  among  the  folds  would  drop  the  pretty  little  picture  sent  by  a 

sweetheart,  wife  or  sister,  or  maybe  it  would  be  the  baby's  picture  for  her 

father  to  see  and  to  notice  how  she  had  grown  since  he  went  away. 

In  these  times  almost  everybody  can  afford  to  have  pictures  taken  often,  and 
our  bo5'S  and  girls  carry  kodaks  and  have  great  success  in  taking  likenesses  of 
those  they  love  and  beautiful  interiors.  Wherever  one  can  do  it,  it  is  well  to  have 
frequent  pictures  taken  of  children,  for  these  darlings  of  the  home  change  a  great 
many  times  as  they  grow  up,  and  it  is  interesting  to  watch  the  development,  both 
of  body  and  mind,  as  the  little  rosy,  dimpled  baby  face  changes  to  the  older 
countenance  of  school-boy  or  school-girl,  and  then  as  that  gives  place  to  the  look 
of  the  youth  or  maiden,  and  finally  as  the  face  takes  on  the  beauty  of  maturity. 

Nothing  is  a  more  interesting  or  welcome  keepsake  to  send  to  a  friend  away 
from  home  than  a  picture  of  one's  self  or  of  some  member  ofthe  family.  Always 
an  acceptable  Christmas  or  birthday  gift,  one  may  be  sure  of  making  no  mistake 
in  thus  remembering  a  friend;  and  when  the  cost  of  the  ordinary'  photograph  is 
compared  with  that  of  almost  any  other  gift,  it  is  really  trifling. 

In  sitting  for  a  picture  one  should  remember  that  it  is  not  so  much  the  dress 
and  costume  which  are  to  be  seized  and  put  upon  the  background  of  the  picture 
as  the  expression  of  the  face.  A  plain  ever>'-day  gown  often  takes  better  than  a 
more  elaborate  toilette,  and  often  people  sacrifice  real  beauty  and  successful  effect 
in  a  desire  to  show  off  a  handsome  new  gown.     The  hair  should  be  a  little  rough» 

(210) 


AN   EPISODE   IN   CHILD   I,IFE.  21 1 

rather  than  too  smooth,  and  should  be  arranged  in  a  natural  way.  The  artist 
who  takes  the  picture  can  usually  tell  what  colors  are  most  becoming,  and  it  is 
always  a  good  plan  to  ask  advice  if  you  are  anxious  to  have  the  photograph  par- 
ticularly good. 

Looking  over  an  old  photograph  album  some  years  after  the  pictures  have 
been  taken  one  is  very  much  struck  with  the  swiftly  changing  fashions.  For  this 
reason  do  not  have  your  picture  taken  in  a  bonnet  or  hat,  unless  you  expect  after 
a  while  to  have  it  appear  very  old-fashioned.  Be  a  little  conservative  as  to  wearing 
anything  in  the  extreme  of  fashion.  A  standing  position  is  as  a  rule  less  desirable 
than  one  in  which  you  are  seated  naturally  in  a  chair  as  you  would  be  in  every 
day  life. 

There  is  an  amusing  poem  by  Lewis  Carroll  which  describes  Hiawatha,  a 
wandering  photographer,  taking  an  English  family  group.  Each  member  of  the 
family  is  determined  to  pose,  and  from  the  father,  who  strikes  an  attitude  holding 
a  roll  of  paper  in  his  hand,  and  the  mother,  who  is  determined  to  have  a  big 
bouquet  shown  prominently,  down  to  the  j'oungest  member  of  the  group,  a  sturdy 
freckled  boy,  each  person  is  so  determined  to  produce  an  eifect  that  the  result  is 
entire  disappointment,  except  in  the  case  of  the  boy,  who,  not  caring  how  he  looks, 
looks  pretty  well.  A  pretty  eflfect  is  sometimes  produced  by  a  drapery  of  lace 
over  a  high  comb,  or  by  a  soft  scarf  of  liberty  silk  brought  loosely  around  the 
shoulders. 

Miniature  painting  has  become  very  popular  during  recent  years,  and  I  have 
seen  some  beautiful  old  pictures  reproduced  successfully  in  this  way.  A  young 
girl  with  artistic  taste,  if  she  can  secure  the  necessary  training,  can  make  an 
excellent  livelihood  by  painting  miniatures;  and  women  have  succeeded  remarkably 
in  photography  when  undertaking  it  as  a  business.  They  seem  unusually  skillful 
in  arranging  details  and  in  catching  likenesses,  and  the  whole  business  is  well 
adapted  to  womanly  taste,  and  comes  well  within  the  round  of  occupations  most 
congenial  to  the  gentler  sex. 


An  Episode  in  Child  Life. 

Our  delightful  New  England  romancer,  Mary  E.  Wilkins,  in  a  charming- 
story  about  children — ' '  Mehitabel  Lamb  ' '  is  its  title — has  a  sketch  showing  the 
curious  reticence  and  martyrlike  fortitude  possible  in  a  very  young  child;  showing 
also  the  ease  with  which  grown  people  may  blunder  in  their  dealings  with  childrisn 
whom  they  love  very  tenderly.  Mehitabel,  a  little  dimpled  girl  who  still  plays  with 
her  doll,  has  been  solemnly  bound  over  to  an  older  girl  not  to  tell  a  certain  thing. 

"I  s'pose,"  says  Hannah  Maria,  "you'll  go  right  straight  home,  and  tell 
my  mother  just  as  quick  as  you  can  get  there." 


212  AN   EPISODE   IN    CHILD   LIFE. 

Mehitabel  said  nothing. 

"You'll  be  an  awful  telltale,  if  you  do." 

"  Shan't  tell,"  said  Mehitabel  in  a  sulky  voice. 

"  Will  you  promise,  '  Honest  and  true,  black  and  blue,  lay  me  down  and  cut 
me  in  two,'  that  you  won't  tell?" 

The  child  promised,  repeating  the  gibberish  over  after  her  friend.  From 
that  moment  until  the  next  morning  her  little  life  enters  into  a  cloud  of  miser>'- 


"  Mothers,  pray  for  your  children." 

and  wrath.  For  Hannah  Maria  has  started  to  walk  to  her  Uncle  Timothy's, 
supposing  it  merely  a  little  way  up  the  road,  and  it  is  five  miles,  and  when  she 
reaches  the  place  her  uncle  and  aunt  keep  her  all  night,  and  her  parents  are 
distracted,  and  the  town  rouses  itself  to  go  in  search  of  the  lost  child,  and  the 
well  is  dragged,  and  little  Mehitabel  is  scolded  and  punished  and  drenched  with 
bitter  thoroughwort  tea,  and  makes  no  sign.  A  Christian  martyr  of  the  first 
century  could  have  shown  no  more  invincible  courage  than  the  poor  baby  whose 


AN    EPISODE   IN   CHILD   LIFE.  213 

mother  whips  her  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  but  who  would  have  died  sooner 
than  tell  that  she  knew  that  Hannah  Maria  Green  had  set  out  to  walk  to  her 
Uncle  Timothy's. 

Reading  this  plain  little  story  the  other  day,  I  was  struck  anew  by  its  insight; 
and  again,  as  often  before,  I  was  impressed  with  the  singular  color-blindness  of 
many  grown-up  people  with  regard  to  the  mental  processes  of  children,  with  the 
astonishing  lack  of  comprehension  which  is  displayed  by  many  parents  in  their 
intercourse  with  their  beloved  little  ones.  I  am  not  sure  that  even  now,  when  a 
wave  of  interest  in  what  is  termed  "child-culture"  has  swept  over  the  land, 
children  will  be  very  much  the  gainers.  There  is  the  danger  that  we  will  treat 
our  delicate  small  girls  and  boys  as  the  botanist  treats  the  flower  he  wishes  to 
analyze;  that  before  our  ruthless  scrutiny  and  our  rigid  search-lights  the  sweetest 
thing  in  childhood,  its  unconsciousness  of  self,  will  disappear. 

The  whole  duty  of  children  in  the  old  days  is  epitomized  by  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson  in  his  ' '  Child  Garden  of  Verse  ' ' : 

"  A  child  should  always  say  what's  true, 
And  speak  when  he  is  spoken  to  ; 
And  behave  mannerly  at  table  - 
At  least  as  far  as  he  is  able. ' ' 

Much  more  than  this,  which  is  elemental  and  simple,  is  required  of  our  little  ones 
to-day,  and  the  peril  is  that  while  we  are  requiring  so  much  of  them  and  of  our- 
selves, we  shall  forget  that  after  all  the  thing  is  not  so  complex. 

"Suffer  the  children  to  come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  said  our  blessed  Lord. 

We  suffer  the  little  ones  to  come  when  we  so  bring  them  up  that  our  homes 
are  full  of  the  love-light  from  above;  when  we  do  not  comment  on  their  faults  in 
their  presence,  nor  on  their  remarkable  attainments  either.  To  make  a  child's 
own  performances  of  any  sort  the  theme  of  conversation  before  the  child  is  most 
injudicious.  We  must  often  leave  to  time  and  nature  passing  phases  of  child- life, 
knowing  that  some  developments  which  give  us  anxiety  will  drop  away  from  the 
unfolding  life,  and  be  seen  no  more.  We  must  remember — alas,  we  too  often 
forget — that  childhood  is  a  period  of  imitation,  and  that  our  example,  our  life 
lived  purely  and  sincerely,  our  high-mindedness  or  our  low  ideals,  will  surely  tell, 
and  tell  as  vitally  in  the  end  as  the  process  is  imperceptible,  upon  the  child's 
welfare  and  character  for  two  worlds. 

And,  mothers,  whatever  else  you  leave  undone,  do  not  cease  to  pray  much 
for  the  children  whom  God  has  given  you.  For  as  you  pray,  you  will  receive 
help  straight  from  that  heaven  where  ' '  their  angels  do  always  behold  the  face  of 
our  father." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
The  Kiss  Deferred. 

wo  little  cousins  once  there  were — 
Mary  Ann  and  Mary  Jane; 
The  first  one  lived  in  Boston  town, 

The  second  down  in  Maine. 
(But  as  the  town  of  Boston  stood 
So  very  far  from  Maine, 
The  cousins  yet  had  never  met, 
Which  caused  them  much  pain.) 

And  Jane  she  wrote  a  little  note: 

' '  Dear  cousin  ' ' — thus  wrote  she — 
'  Dear  Cousin  Ann,  I've  made  a  plan 

That  you  should  visit  me; 
For  you  are  the  one,  the  Ann  unknown, 

I've  always  longed  to  see. 
They  say  that  you  have  eyes  deep  blue. 

And  a  face  all  lily  fair, 
While  round  your  face,  with  many  a  grace. 

Doth  curl  your  golden  hair. 
Now  I,  they  say,  have  ej^es  of  gra}^ 

And  the  puggiest  little  nose, 
A  little  round  chin  with  a  dimple  in, 

And  cheeks  as  red  as  a  rose. 
Let  me  tell  you  this,  that  I'm  saving  a  kiss, 

And  a  dear  good  hugging  too, 
For  the  cousin  so  fair  with  the  golden  hair. 

And  the  eyes  so  brightly  blue. 
So  pray,  dear  Ann,  come  if  you  can, 

And  bring  your  dolly,  dear; 
My  dollies  all,  both  great  and  small, 

Will  make  her  welcome  here. 
(214) 


THE   KISS   DEFERRED.  215 

And  we'll  sit  upstairs  in  our  little  low  chairs, 

And  dress  them  all  so  gay  ; 
And  we'll  hunt  for  flowers  in  the  woods  for  hours 

And  I  know  such  a  pretty  play!" 

Wrote  Ann  to  Jane:     **  I'd  come  to  Maine 

And  play  with  you,  I'm  sure; 
'Twould  be  so  good,  if  I  only  could, 

But  my  pa  he's  too  poor. 
When  his  ship  gets  home,  then  I  may  come, 

He  says,  for  that  will  bring 
All  it  can  hold  of  silver  and  gold, 

And  clothes,  and  every  thing." 

The  years  flew  on;  young  maidens  grown 

Were  Marys,  Ann  and  Jane; 
Still  dwelt  the  first  in  Boston  town, 

The  second  down  in  Maine. 
(But  as  the  town  of  Boston  stood 

So  very  far  from  Maine, 
The  cousins  yet  had  never  met, 

Which  caused  them  much  pain.) 

And  now  Jane  wrote  a  perfumed  note, 

All  in  a  perfumed  cover; 
And  thus  it  ran:      "  Do  come,  dear  Ann, 

Do  come  and  bring  your  lover. 
I've  a  lover,  too,  so  tender  and  true — 

Oh !  a  gallant  youth  is  he. 
On  a  moonlight  night,  when  the  moon  shines  bright, 

How  charming  it  will  be 
To  pleasantly  walk  and  pleasantly  talk, 

Or  for  you  two  and  we 
Together  to  roam  where  the  white  waves  foam 

All  down  by  the  sounding  sea!" 

Wrote  Ann  to  Jane:     "  That  visit  to  Maine 

Must  longer  yet  delay. 
My  cousin  dear;  for  soon  draws  near 

My  happy  wedding  day." 


21 6  THE   KISS   DEFERRED. 

More  5'ears  had  flown;  much  older  grown 

Were  Marys,  Ann  and  Jane; 
Still  dwelt  the  first  in  Boston  town, 

The  second  down  in  Maine. 
(But  as  the  town  of  Boston  stood 

So  very  far  from  Maine, 
The  cousins  yet  had  never  met. 

Which  caused  them  much  pain.) 

And  once  again  Jane  took  her  pen : 

"  Dear  cousin,"  now  wrote  she, 
*'  Won't  you  come  down  from  Boston  town. 

And  bring  your  family  ? 
Bring  all  your  girls,  with  their  golden  curls, 

And  their  eyes  so  heavenly  blue; 
Bring  all  your  boys,  with  all  their  noise, 

And  bring  that  husband  too. 
I've  a  pretty  band  that  around  me  stand — 

Six  girls — my  heart's  delight! 
They're  as  lovely  a  set  as  ever  you  met, 

And  all  remarkably  bright. 
There's  a  kiss — don't  you  know  ? — that  since  long  ago 

I  have  been  keeping  warm  for  you,  dear; 
Or  have  you  forgot  that  first  little  note 

I  scribbled  and  sent  you  from  here  ?' ' 

Thus  Ann  did  reply:      "Alas!  how  can  I 

Set  forth  on  my  travels,  dear  Jane  ? 
I've  too  many  to  take,  yet  none  to  forsake. 

So  sadly  at  home  must  remain. 
If  your  kiss  is  warm  still,  pray  keep  it  until 

You  see  me  come  jaunting  that  way. 
I've  a  loving  kiss  too,  that's  been  saving  for  you 

This  many  and  many  a  day. ' ' 


Time  onward  ran ;  now  Jane  and  Ann 

Were  old  and  feeble  grown; 
Life's  rapid  j^ears,  'mid  smiles  and  tears. 

Had  swiftly  o'er  them  flown. 


THE   KISS   DEFERRED. 

Thin  locks  of  gray  were  stroked  away 

From  the  worn  and  wrinkled  brow; 
Their  forms  were  bent,  their  years  were  spent, 

They  were  aged  women  now — 

Lone,  widowed  women  now. 
One,  5'oung  folks  all  did  "  Aunt  Ann  "  call. 

The  other  one  "  Aunt  Jane;" 
Still  dwelt  the  first  in  Boston  town, 

The  second  down  in  Maine. 
(But  as  the  town  of  Boston  stood 

So  very  far  from  Maine, 
The  cousins  yet  had  never  met. 

Which  caused  them  much  pain.) 

Sudden  one  da}'^ — one  winter's  day — 

Aunt  Ann  said,  ' '  I  must  go 
To  Cousin  Jane,  who  lives  in  Maine, 

In  spite  of  ice  and  snow." 
* '  Why,  grandmother  dear  !     This  time  o'  the  year  ? 

Oh,  what  a  foolish  thing  ! 
You  are  far  too  old  to  go  in  the  cold; 

We  pray  you  wait  till  spring, 
When  the  skies  are  clear,  and  flowers  appear, 

And  birds  begin  to  sing." 
"  Children,"  said  she,  "  don't  hinder  me. 

When  smiling  spring  comes  on. 
The  flowers  may  bloom  around  my  tomb, 

And  I  be  dead  and  gone. 
I'm  old,  'tis  true;  my  days  are  few; 

There  lies  a  reason  plain 
Against  delay.     If  short  my  stay, 

I  must  away  to  Maine, 
And  let  these  eyes,  these  mortal  eyes, 

Behold  my  Cousin  Jane. ' ' 


As  Aunt  Jane  sits  and  quietly  knits, 
Thinking  her  childhood  o'er, 

The  latch  is  stirred,  and  next  is  heard 
A  tapping  at  the  door. 


3x7 


2i8  THE  KISS   DEFERRED 

"  Come  in,"  she  said,  and  raised  her  head 

To  see  who  might  appear. 
An  aged  dame,  who  walked  quite  lame. 

Said,  "  Cousin,  I  am  here  ! 
I'm  here,  dear  Jane;  I've  come  to  Maine 

To  take  that  kiss,  j'ou  know — 
The  kiss,  my  dear,  kept  for  me  here 

Since  that  long,  long  ago  !  " 

In  glad  surprise  Aunt  Jane  she  cries: 

"  Why,  Ann,  can  this  be  you  ? 
Where  and  Oh  where  is  the  golden  hair  ? 

Are  these  those  eyes  of  blue  ?  ' ' 
"And  where,"  Ann  said,   "  are  your  roses  fled, 

And  your  chubby  cheeks,  I  pray  ? 
This,  I  suppose,  was  the  little  pug  nose; 

But  the  dimples,  where  are  the^-  ? 
Are  the  dollies  up  stairs  in  the  small  low  cihairs, 

Dressed  out  so  fine  and  gay  ? 
Shall  we  gather  flowers  in  the  woodland  bowers  ? 

Shall  we  play  that  pretty  play  ? 
And  the  lover,  too,  so  tender  and  true, 

Who  walked  by  the  light  of  the  moon; 
And  the  little  band  that  around  thee  did  stand — 

Are  they  gone,  all  gone,  so  soon  ?  ' ' 

They  turned  their  eyes  to  the  darkening  skies 

And  the  desolate  scene  below, 
Where  the  wintry  sun  was  sinking  down 

Behind  the  waste  of  snow, 
As  they  spoke  with  tears  of  their  childhood's  years 

And  the  hopes  of  long  ago. 

Thus  sitting  there,  long  talked  the  pair 

Of  those  they  loved  that  day ; 
How  some  were  dead,  and  some  were  wed. 

And  others  far  away. 
How  some  had  proved  true,  and  of  erring  ones  who 

Had  sadly  gone  astray; 


A  WAY   OF   ESCAPE.  219 

Of  the  brides  they  had  dressed  with  many  a  jest, 

Though  with  many  a  secret  sigh  ; 
,0f  the  fair  and  the  brave  the)'  had  lain  in  the  grave 

Too  fair,  too  brave,  to  die  ! 

Slow  fades  away  the  winter's  day. 

Its  last  faint  gleam  is  gone  ; 
Shadows  deep  now^  o'er  them  creep. 

But  still  the  tale  goes  on  ; 
The  smiles  and  tears  of  buried  years 

Are  smiled  and  wept  again  ; 
And  marriage  bells  and  funeral  knells 

Are  mingled  in  one  strain. 

And  thus  at  last,  a  lifetime  passed, 
The  cousins  met  in  Maine. 

— Ano7i. 


A  Way  of  Escape. 

From  the  turmoil,  the  trial,  the  conflict  of  life,  • 
From  the  hour  of  darkness,  the  hour  of  tears. 

From  the  struggle,  the  sorrow,  the  anguish,  the  strife. 
Which  we  meet  and  we  dread  in  our  fast-fleeting  years, 

Thank  God  !  there  is  ever  a  way  of  escape  ; 

We  may  fly  from  the  din,  we  may  step  from  the  mart, 
Our  course  for  the  day  may  in  quietness  shape. 

Our  looks  may  grow  bright  in  the  peace  of  the  heart. 

There  is  always  the  comfort  of  leaving  the  load 

At  the  foot  of  the  Cross  that  stands  hard  by  the  way  ; 

There  is  always  the  gladness  of  walking  the  road 

With  one  whose  dear  words  are  our  strength  and  our  stay. 

There  is  work  to  be  done,  there,  are  lessons  to  learn, 
There  are  nobler  things  waiting  than  heaping  up  pelf, 

And  ever,  as  flowers  to  sunlight  that  turn, 
We  may  turn  unto  Jesus,  forgetful  of  self. 


220  GOOD   INTENTIONS. 

Though  life  be  a  battle,  though  sometimes  defeat 

And  sometimes  sore  wounds  be  our  portion  and  grief. 

Yet  this  is  our  comfort — we  shall  not  retreat 
At  the  end  of  the  fight  if  we  follow  our  Chief. 

In  the  stress  and  the  pain,  in  the  languor  and  woe, 
By  the  pattern  He  set  us  our  course  we  will  shape; 

Whatever  the  peril,  the  issue,  we  know, 

Is  safe  in  His  hands,  and  the  way  of  escape, 

Which  He  marked  from  the  first,  will  be  ours  at  the  end; 

So  victors  we  tread,  though  the  marching  be  steep — 
We  are  led  by  our  Captain,  our  Master,  our  Friend; 

Though  the  battle  be  stubborn,  the  rest. will  be  deep. 


Good  Intentions. 


The  wonderful  things  we  have  planned,  lyove. 

The  beautiful  things  we  have  done, 
The  fields  we  have  tilled,  the  gifts  we  have  willed, 

In  the  light  of  another  year's  sun. 
When  we  think  of  it  all  we  are  baffled, 

There's  so  much  that  never  comes  tme. 
Because,  Love,  instead  of  our  doing. 

We're  always  just  meaning  to  do. 

The  friends  we  are  wanting  to  help,  Love, 

They  struggle  alone  and  forlorn. 
By  trial  and  suffering  vanquished. 

Perchance  by  temptation  o'erborne; 
But  the  lift,  and  the  touch,  and  the  greeting, 

That  well  might  have  aided  them  through 
The  perilous  strait  of  ill-fortune 

They  miss — we're  but  meaning  to  do. 

We  dream  of  a  fountain  of  knowledge. 

We  loiter  along  on  its  brink. 
And  toy  with  the  crystalline  waters, 

Forever  just  meaning  to  drink. 


THE   NEW   YEAR.  221 

Night  falls  and  our  tasks  are  unfinished, 

Too  late  our  lost  chances  we  rue; 
Dear  Love,  while  our  comrades  were  doing, 

We  only  were  meaning  to  do. 


The  New  Year. 


The  clock  struck  twelve  in  the  tall  church  tower, 

And  the  old  year  slipped  away. 
To  be  lost  in  the  crowd  of  phantom  years 

In  the  House  of  Dreams  that  stay 

All  wrapped  in  their  cloaks  of  gray. 

Then  swift  and  sweet  o'er  the  door's  worn  sill 

Came  the  youngest  child  of  Time, 
With  a  gay  little  bow  and  a  merry  laugh. 

And  a  voice  like  bells  achime. 
Challenging  frost  and  rime. 

He  found  there  was  plenty  for  him  to  do, 
The  strong  and  the  weak  were  here. 

And  both  held  out  their  hands  to  him 
And  gave  him  greetings  dear, 

The  beautiful  j'^oung  new  year. 

You  must  bring  us  better  days,"  they  said, 
"  The  old  year  was  a  cheat." 
Which  I  think  was  mean  when  the  year  was  dead; 
Such  fate  do  dead  years  meet, 

To  be  spurned  by  scornful  feet  ! 

* '  I  bring  you  the  best  a  year  can  bring, ' ' 

The  new-comer  stoutly  spake, 
"  The  chance  of  work,  the  gift  of  trust, 

And  the  bread  of  love  to  break, 
If  but  my  gifts  you'll  take  !  '* 

The  noblest  thing  a  year  can  lay 

In  the  lap  of  you  or  me. 
The  brave  new  year  has  brought  this  day, 

It  is  Opportunity, 

Which  the  wise  are  quick  to  see. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


The  Daily  Papers. 

we  are  to  keep  in  touch  with  the  world  about  us  we  must  of  neces- 
sity read  the  journals  which  report  current  happenings  in  the 
world.  Every  home  has  its  relations  to  the  village,  the  state  and 
the  nation.  In  order  to  have  our  minds  well  furnished  and  alert 
we  must  be  aware  of  what  is  going  on  around  us,  not  only  in  our 
/J^^OTjW  own  community,  but  also  must  keep  abreast  of  the  wider  thought 
~^vJf^*v     of  the  world. 

History  is  a  record  of  events  which  are  past.  We  are  making 
the  history  of  the  future  in  our  daily  lives.  Interesting  as  it 
is  to  take  up  such  a  story  as  Motley's  "Dutch  Republic,"  or 
Merivale's  "Ancient  Rome,"  Gibbon's  "Decline  and  Fall  of  Rome,"  Hume's,  or 
Macaulay's,  or  Greene's  "History  of  England,"  essential  as  it  is  that  we  .shall 
know  the  whole  wonderful  story  of  the  past  upon  the  earth,  it  is  quite  as  important 
that  we  should  have  a  grasp  of  the  doings  of  to-day.  We  are  living  in  thrilling 
and  exciting  times;  certain  leaves  are  being  turned  in  the  pages  of  the  world's 
history  on  which  the  scholars  and  thinkers  of  the  future  will  dwell  with  wonder 
and  awe.     Of  all  this  we  are  a  part. 

While  excessive  reading  of  the  newspapers  tends  to  little  profit,  yet  all  intel- 
ligent people  must  make  it  a  part  of  the  business  of  their  daily  lives  to  peruse 
and  ponder  on  the  contents  of  these  wide-awake  and  stirring  periodicals.  We  may 
have  our  choice  among  them.  Of  difierent  political  beliefs  and  traditions,  each 
household  and  family  has  a  right  to  select  that  paper  which  best  represents  its  own 
ideas;  but,  apart  from  the  teachings  of  the  editorials  and  of  the  various  writers 
who  contribute  to  daily  and  weekly  journals,  the  gathering  of  the  news  alone  is  a 
matter  of  great  moment.  Reporters  are  sent  here  and  there  all  around  the  globe, 
the  telegraph  keeps  us  informed  of  that  which  is  happening  in  remote  corners  of 
the  globe,  and  the  day  has  come  when  the  word  of  prophecy  is  fulfilled,  that 
knowledge  is  diffused  over  the  whole  earth,  and  they  that  run  may  read. 

There  is  an  excellent  method  of  reading  the  paper,  as  there  is  of  doing  everj-- 
thing  else.  It  would  not  be  a  bad  idea  for  children  in  schools  to  be  taught  how 
to  use  the  newspaper  to  adv^antage.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  well  to  ascertain 
whereabout  in  the  paper,  if  anj'^where,  there  is  a  summary  of  the  daily  news. 
Certain  excellent  papers  so  arrange  their  material  that  one  can  turn  at  once  to  the 
things  he  or  she  wants,  and  need  not  waste  time  on  that  which  is  of  little  moment. 

(222) 


A   NEW   YEAR'S   TALE.  223 

It  is  unfortunate  that  so  much  space  is  given  to  details  of  dreadful  crimes 
and  to  minute  and  sensational  relations  of  things  on  which  the  curtain  of  oblivion 
should  be  dropped.  If  we  cannot  wholly  avoid  hearing  and  knowing  the  story 
of  the  wickedness  in  the  world,  yet  we  need  not  dwell  upon  it,  and  we  may  pass 
it  over  lightly  and  not  make  it  the  subject  of  conversation. 

Women  are  supposed  always  to  read  first  the  notices  of  marriages  and  deaths, 
thus  showing  their  interest  in  that  which  is  personal  and  individual.  Curiously, 
we  do  feel  an  interest  in  accounts  of  weddings  and  engagements,  even  when  we 
do  not  know  the  people  concerned,  and  often  we  have  a  compassionate  regret  for 
the  hearts  that  ache  when  we  see  the  account  of  a  death.  I  once  heard  of  an  old 
farmer  who  put  the  morning  paper  down  with  an  air  of  disappointment,  saying, 
"  Nothing  interesting  in  this  to-day;  there  is  nobody  dead  that  I  know."  But 
that  is  not  the  mental  attitude  of  most  of  us.  Generally,  we  do  not  express  it  in 
preciseh'  that  way,  even  if  we  have  no  special  relation  to  the  sorrows  of  which  we 
read.  All  good  citizens  feel  an  interest  in  legal  enactments  and  in  all  phases  of 
legislation  which  involve  the  welfare  of  their  township,  county  or  state.  In  law- 
abiding  communities  we  turn  at  once  to  our  legislators  to  protect  us  in  our  rights, 
and  we  invoke  the  protection  of  law  for  our  own  property,  as,  for  instance,  in  a 
New  England  State  which  this  spring  has  passed  a  resolution  forbidding  all 
persons  for  one  year  to  pick  the  beautiful  trailing  arbutus,  because  the  whole- 
sale picking  of  former  years  had  almost  deprived  certain  forests  and  woods  of  this 
prime  favorite  of  the  spring. 

Then,  also,  in  certain  townships  women  have  been  prohibited  from  wearing^ 
large  and  obtrusive  hats  in  public  places,  especially  of  amusement,  because  the 
community  was  law-abiding  and  could  thus  protect  itself  from  thoughtlessness  on 
the  part  of  the  ladies.  We  find  it  entertaining  to  read  of  such  little  things  as 
this,  and  also  amusing  to  study  the  comments  made  on  these  and  similar  occur- 
rences. 

In  a  larger  way,  the  newspaper  lets  us  know  of  all  that  is  doing  in  wars  and 
rumors  of  wars  that  are  going  gn,  the  sounds  of  martial  music  that  are  blown 
about  the  world,  the  patriotic  deeds  which  are  being  done  everywhere,  and  the 
story  of  invention  and  progress.  We  must  have  a  margin  in  our  home  life  for 
our  daily  papers,  weekly  papers,  and  also  for  some  one  or  other  of  the  magazines, 
which  furnish  entertainment  and  instruction  to  the  family  group. 


A  New  Year's  Tale. 

We  had  drawn  our  chairs  around  the  fire,  and  made  the  circle  a  close  one,  for 
the  night  was  bitterly  cold.     The  wind  howled  in  the  forest  as  if  a  pack  of  wolves 


224  A   NEW  YEAR'S   TALE. 

were  loose  and  famished  for  food.  The  sky  had  been  low  hung  and  gra)-  since 
early  morning.  At  dusk  the  white  flakes  began  to  fall — the  thick,  heavy  kind  in 
which  several  clusters  cling  together.  By  the  time  father  came  in  from  milking, 
and  bedding  the  horses  and  cows  comfortably  for  the  night  you  could  not  see  the 
fence  nor  the  bars  at  the  end  of  the  lane.  Father  was  red  with  cold  as  he 
unwound  his  great  woolen  comforter  that  came  up  well  above  his  ears,  and  hung  his 
shabby  old  overcoat  on  the  nail  in  the  entrj-. 

"  It's  well  for  them  that  have  no  house  to  go  to  this  night,"  he  said,  quoting 
a  family  proverb.     It  meant  "  well  for  those  already  in  the  house." 

"  Yes,  John,  dear,"  said  our  sweet  mother,  adding,  "  I've  made  oat  scones 
and  fried  sausages  for  supper.     I  knew  you'd  need  something  hot." 

"  And  coffee,  mamma;  you'll  have  coffee,  won't  you?  "  cried  Louis.  "  Tea 
is  so  sloppy  on  a  verj'  cold  night. ' ' 

"  Coffee,  if  you  want  it,  my  boy,"  said  mother.  "  One's  as  little  bother  as 
the  other,  if  Sadie  will  grind  the  coffee,  or  if  you  will,  Louis,  as  you  are  the 
pleader  in  the  case,  and  Sadie  is  busy  with  her  fancy  work." 

Well,  we  had  supper,  and  a  jolly  one  it  was,  and  then  on  the  last  night  of  the 
year  we  settled  down  to  a  quiet,  homely  evening  with  fun  and  songs  and  stories. 
What  cared  we  for  a  bitter  storm  with  our  own  ah  safe,  and  not  a  jar  in  the  sweet 
melody  of  our  beautiful  love-life  as  a  household  to  whom  God  had  been  good  far 
beyond  all  deserts. 

We  had  just  finished  "  Annie  Laurie,"  and  the  echoes  had  hardly  died  away, 
when  Sadie  declared  she  heard  a  call  for  help  out  there  in  the  snow.  Nobody 
else  heard  any  sound  except  the  twisting  and  whirling  of  the  bending  boughs, 
tormented  with  the  wind,  and  the  wail  of  the  wind  itself,  rioting  like  a  fiend 
around  the  rattling  panes  and  clattering  like  a  dragoon  on  horseback  against  the 
eaves.  There  are  silent  snow  storms  and  angry  snow  storms,  and  this  was  one  of 
the  furious  sort. 

But  whether  Sadie  heard  anything  or  whether  she  did  not,  Leo,  our  old 
retriever,  was  sure  in  his  mind  that  somebody  was  outside.  Leo  sniffed  under  the 
mat  bj'  the  door  and  barked  and  whined.  Then  he  came  to  father  and  tugged  at 
his  coat,  and  father  got  up,  lighted  the  lantern,  put  on  his  hat  and  muffler  and 
went  into  the  storm,  Leo  at  his  heels. 

Presently  they  returned.  Father  was  dragging  what  looked  like  a  great 
bundle  behind  him.  Leo  rushed  after  it,  barking  with  the  greatest  excitement. 
The  snow  followed  them  all  in  a  white  whirling  cloud  and  the  cold  came  in  with 
the  fierceness  of  an  invading  army.  We  hurried  to  shut  the  door,  and  then 
mother  and  the  girls  undid  the  bundle. 

It  was  a  slip  of  a  maiden  not  much  beyond  childhood.  She  was  so  pretty  as 
she  lay  unconscious  before  our  eyes  that  Louis  held  his  breath  with  wonder  and 


A   NEW   YEAR'S   TALE.  225 

pleasure.  Father  began  to  rub  her  cold  hands,  Sadie  chafed  her  temples,  mother 
pulled  off  her  soaked  and  sodden  shoes  and  stockings.  Soon  she  opened  her  blue 
eyes  and  gasped  twice,  then  in  a  faint,  flute-like  voice  asked,  "  Where  am  I  ?  Is 
this  heaven  ?  ' ' 

"  No,  my  dear,"  said  mother,  holding  a  glass  of  warm  milk  to  her  lips  and 
putting  her  strong,  gentle  arm  under  the  girlish  head,  "  it  isn't  heaven.  Its 
Flyaway  Farm,  that  stands  on  the  hill  near  Oakhurst. ' ' 

"  And  it's  not  so  far  from  being  a  heaven-like  place,"  said  father,  as  he  sat 
down  behind  the  hearth  again. 

Who  was  this  girl  and  how  came  she  to  be  alone  in  such  a  storm  ?  None  of 
our  neighbors  but  would  have  known  better  than  to  venture  forth  in  such  weather 
as  had  threatened  since  morning.  But  this  was  a  stranger,  and  when  she  came  to 
herself  she  proved  to  be  of  a  graceful  bearing  and  of  an  air  seldom  seen  in  our 
plain  countryside.  As  to  her  looks,  she  was  not  fashioned  of  common  clay,  but 
of  the  finest  porcelain,  the  loveliest  thing  you  ever  dreamed  of,  and  not  past 
twenty  years  old. 

"  I  am  Dorothy  Lester,"  she  told  us,  "  and  I've  come  from  Honolulu,  where 
I  lost  my  parents,  to  stay  with  my  uncle,  James  Quincy.  Uncle  did  not  expect 
me  so  soon,  but  he  knew  I  was  on  the  way.  I  left  the  railroad  at  noon  and  came  in 
the  stage  to  the  Comers.  There  I  got  out  and  the  driver  told  me  how  to  go  on, 
but  I  lost  my  way  in  the  snow." 

"  Abominable  conduct  in  William  Scott,"  said  my  father,  "  to  let  a  girl,  and 
a  stranger,  start  on  such  a  road  with  such  a  storm  brewing. ' ' 

"Well,"  said  mother,  soothingly,  "you  are  here  now,  and  God  watched 
over  you,  dear  child.  Here  you'll  remain  till  the  weather  changes,  and  then  we'll 
take  you  to  your  uncle's." 

' '  'Tis  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good,"  said  Louis,  who  was  uncommonly 
pleased  with  the  addition  to  our  party. 

Well,  we  had  Dorothy  with  us  four  splendid  shut-in  days,  when  the  snow 
walled  us  away  from  the  world,  and  nobody  came  in  or  went  out.  She  shared  our 
happy  New  Year  festivities,  and  joined  our  family  prayers,  and  we  treated  her  as 
if  she  were  Noah's  dove  that  had  fluttered  out  of  the  tempest  into  the  ark.  We 
all  felt  sorrowful  when  the  time  came  that  father  harnessed  the  gray  horses  to  the 
old  sleigh,  piled  in  the  robes,  put  a  glowing  foot-stove  in  the  bottom  for  Dorothy's 
little  feet,  and  then  glided  away  with  a  guest  we  had  learned  to  love. 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  it  so  much,"  said  Louis,  as  he  turned  mournfully  from  the 
door,  "  if  her  aunt,  Miriam  Quincy,  were  like  anybody  else — like  our  dear 
mother,  for  instance;  but  she  is  so  cross  and  hateful  !  " 

"Oh,  well!"  said  Sadie,  cheerfully,   "Dorothy  won't  have  to  stay    there 
always.     Girls  marry  and  go  to  homes  of  their  own." 
15 


226  A   CHAT  WITH   COUNTRY    GIRI.S. 

Which  was  precisely  what  Dorothy  did  in  another  new  year.  Ask  Louis 
what  he  thinks  of  the  wife  God  brought  him  from  over  the  sea,  and  sent  to  his 
arras  on  the  wings  of  the  wind.  "A  prudent  wife,"  however  you  find  her,  "  is 
from  the  Lord." 


A  Chat  With  Country  Girls. 

The  brightest,  cleverest  and  wittiest  girl  I  ever  met  in  my  life  was  brought  up 
in  a  remote  hamlet  among  the  Virginia  mountains,  a  whole  day's  journey  from  the 
nearest  railroad.  Her  own  family,  a  few  scattered  neighbors,  and  the  books  she 
read  and  loved,  had  been  her  teachers,  for  she  had  never  attended  a  school  other 
than  a  very  small  one  conducted  by  her  mother.  No  young  girl  ever  surprised 
and  charmed  me  more  than  did  this  graceful  and  refined  Salome,  whose  manner 
of  entering  a  room  would  have  done  credit  to  the  most  finished  belle.  I  mention 
entering  a  room,  because  one's  ease  in  this  common,  every-day  action,  or  one's 
awkwardness,  show  the  observer  to  what  degree  of  social  training  one  has 
attained,  and  unthinking  people  sometimes  fancy  that  social  training  or  savoir 
/aire,  the  knowing  what  to  do  and  how  to  do  it,  is  an  afiair  of  the  town  rather 
than  of  the  countr5\ 

Salome  would  have  impressed  any  one  by  the  cordial  and  sincere  gladness  of 
her  greeting,  if  you  were  a  guest,  and  she  stepped  forward  to  welcome  you.  If 
it  happened  that  a  half-dozen  kinsfolk  and  friends  had  driven  across  country  and 
stopped  at  her  home,  she  would  have  tactfully  spoken  to  each,  saying  just  the 
right  word,  asking  for  Aunt  Mary  and  Uncle  Thomas,  remembering  the  ailing 
grandmother,  and  the  babies.  And  when  it  came  to  serving  refreshments,  hers 
was  the  deft  hand  and  the  light  foot;  she  knew  how  to  set  out  a  luncheon  invit- 
ingly, she  gave  the  right  touch,  she  knew  the  values  of  little  things.  For  jest 
and  fun  and  repartee,  few  girls  I  have  ever  met  have  surpassed  my  mountain 
maiden,  Salome. 

Country  girls  have  the  advantage  over  their  city  cousins  of  an  acquaintance 
with  Nature  in  her  several  moods.  They  see  great  spaces  of  sky  where  we  of  the 
town  are  confined  to  little  patches  of  blue,  with  here  and  there  ^  star.  They  may, 
if  they  choose,  know  familiarly  all  the  flowers  which  grow  in  their  region, 
may  classify  the  plants,  and  study  the  stones  and  rocks  for  miles.  They  may 
ride,  climb,  wheel;  in  short,  engage  in  every  form  of  outdoor  sport,  with  ideal 
freedom,  especially  if  they  join  their  forces,  three  or  four,  or  six  or  eight,  girls 
going  far  afield  together. 

In  many  places  it  is  not  well  for  a  girl  to  venture  out  on  solitary  excursions. 
A  dog  which  loves  his  mistress  is  a  good  protector,  but  it  is  wise  for  a  group  of 


A   CHAT  WITH    COUNTRY   GIRLS. 


227 


friends  to  go  on  jaunts  in  company,  or  for  a  sister  to  have  her  brothers  as  a  body- 
guard, when  going  a  distance  from  home  over  lonesome  roads. 

Country  girls  very  naturall}'  turn  with  longing  eyes  to  the  city,  when  the 
time  arrives  in  which  they  de- 
sire to  take  some  share  in  the 
world's  work  for  themselves, 
in  which,  to  put  it  plainly, 
they  are  anxious  to  earn  their 
own  living.  Perhaps  they  de- 
sire to  relieve  their  parents, 
knowing  that  father  and 
mother  have  had  a  weary,  up- 
hill time  of  it,  in  bringing  the 
children  to  the  present  point. 

There  may  be  brothers  to 
educate,  or  the  farm  may  not 
be  clear  of  debt.  On  how 
many  households  a  mortgage 
presses  heavily,  and  how 
praiseworthy  it  is  for  a  daugh- 
ter to  wish  herself  able  to  lift 
at  least  a  small  part  of  that 
burden. 

Now,  girls,  let  me  very 
earnestly  give  you  one  bit  of 
advice:  Do  not  come  from  the 
safe  shelter  of  your  own  home, 
and  from  your  mother's  side, 
into  a  great  town  filled  with 
strangers,  where  you  have  as 
yet  no  foothold,  and  where 
your  chances  are  uncertain, 
where  it  may  be  next  to  im- 
possible to  procure  employ- 
ment at  a  rate  of  payment  at 
which  you  can  be  self-sup- 
porting. Do  not  be  allured 
by  a  weekly  stipend  which  sounds  large  in  a  place  where  little  actual  money  is 
required,  but  which  will  be  very  small  when  out  of  it  must  be  squeezed  room  rent, 
and  board,  and  car  fare,  and  luncheon,  and  a  nice  well-fitting  gown  in  which  to 


LOOKING  AT  HER  PJCTURE. 


228  A   CHAT  WITH   COUNTRY   GIRLS. 

appear  in  office  or  salesroom.  Stay  where  you  are  until  you  have  an  assured  posi- 
tion awaiting  you,  and  through  acquaintances  or  relatives,  or  the  Young  Women's 
Christian  Association,  make  full  and  definite  arrangements  as  to  the  home  in 
which  you  will  be  received  as  an  inmate,  and  the  people  who  will  be  your 
companions. 

A  young  girl  coming  from  her  home  for  the  first  time  should  bring  a  letter  of 
introduction  from  her  pastor  to  a  pastor  of  her  own  denomination,  so  that  she  may 
at  once  find  friends  in  a  Sunday-school  or  church.  Should  a  girl  from  the  country 
find  herself  in  town  alone  after  dark,  and  without  previous  preparation,  so  that  she 
is  at  loss  what  steps  to  take,  she  should  ask  a  policeman  to  direct  her  to  the  clergy- 
man whose  house  or  church  is  nearest  the  place  where  she  happens  to  be,  and  to 
him  she  should  frankly  tell  her  story  and  ask  his  counsel.  If  she  can  be  directed 
to  the  Young  Women's  Christian  Association,  she  will  there  find  safe  and  judi- 
cious friends  who  will  wisely  advise  her.  Only  an  accident,  however,  should 
place  a  young  girl  in  this  position.  As  a  rule,  a  girl  coming  to  a  strange  place 
from  the  country  should  arrange  beforehand  to  be  met  at  ferry  or  station,  and  her 
friends  at  home  should  not  trust  anything  so  precious  as  a  daughter  to  the  chances 
of  fate. 

My  motherly  heart  yearns  over  homesick  girls,  waifs  in  a  crowd  of  alien 
people,  none  of  whom  care  for  them.  Shy,  and  alone  and  anxious,  they  are  greatly 
to  be  pitied,  even  when  pluck  and  courage  carry  them  on  to  victory. 

Make  ready  for  life  by  thoroughly  mastering  some  art,  or  trade,  or  accom- 
plishment, so  that  when  the  hour  comes  for  entering  the  world's  market  they  will 
be  found  ready.  In  every  hamlet  and  village,  in  every  home  in  the  land,  there  is 
the  opportunity  to  acquire  something.  Possibly  it  is  not  the  thing  we  prefer,  but 
to  learn  anything  well  is  to  make  for  yourself  a  stepping-stone  to  something 
better  and  higher.  The  greatest  trouble  in  life  is  that  there  are  so  many  incompe- 
tent and  incapable  people  about,  people  who  cannot  be  trusted  to  finish  what  they 
begin,  or  to  do  the  least  task  as  it  should  be  done. 

The  young  girl  who  has  learned,  for  instance,  the  art  of  good  housekeeping, 
who  can  make  a  loaf  of  bread,  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  a  cake  fit  for  the  prize-table  at 
a  fair,  will,  by  reason  of  that  very  knowledge,  fill  a  position  of  trust  more  credit- 
ably than  the  untrained  girl,  even  though  it  be  in  quite  another  sphere.  Knowl- 
edge is  power. 

Dear  country  girl,  do  not  hastily  give  up  a  place  of  honorable,  though 
perhaps  slenderly  paid,  ser^'ice  at  home  for  one  which  seems  an  advance  in  salar\' 
and  prestige  among  .strangers.  The  advance  maj^  be  only  apparent.  In  an  affair 
so  important  as  this  you  must  be  sure  beforehand  that  you  are  not  about  to  make 
a  mistake  which  may  be  irreparable. 


UNCONSCIOUS   REVKI.ATIONS.  229 

Little  Girl's  Life  in  1782. 

One  hundred  and  fifteen  years  ago  a  little  girl  named  Mary  Butt  was  living 
with  her  parents  at  the  pretty  rectory  of  Stanford,  in  England.  She  was  a  bright 
and  beautiful  child,  and  when  she  grew  up  she  became  Mrs.  Sherwood,  the  writer 
of  a  great  many  charming  stories  for  young  people. 

But  nothing  that  she  wrote  is  so  entertaining  as  the  story  of  her  childhood, 
which,  when  she  was  an  old  lady,  she  told  to  please  her  grandchildren.  I  wonder 
how  the  girls  who  read  this  would  endure  the  discipline  which  little  Mary  sub- 
mitted to  so  patiently  in  1782.  From  the  time  she  was  six  years  old  until  she 
was  thirteen,  she  wore  every  day  an  iron  collar  around  her  neck  and  aback  board 
strapped  over  her  shoulders.  This  was  to  make  her  perfectly  straight.  Perhaps 
you  may  have  seen  here  and  there  a  very  stately  old  lady  who  never  was  known 
to  lean  back  in  her  chair,  but  who  always  held  herself  as  erect  as  a  soldier  an  duty. 

If  so,  she  was  taught,  you  may  be  sure,  to  carry  herself  in  that  way  wthen  she 
was  a  little  girl.  Poor  Mary's  iron  collar  was  put  on  in  the  morning  and  was 
not  taken  off  until  dark,  and,  worse  than  that,  she  says:  "  I  generally  did  all  my 
lessons  standing  in  stocks,  with  the  collar  around  my  neck.  I  njever  sat  down  on 
a  chair  in  my  mother's  presence." 

Her  mother  and  herself  were  great  readers,  but  j^ou  can  count  on  the  fingers 
of  one  hand  all  the  books  they  had  to  read.  "Robinson  Crusoe, ' '  two  sots  of  ' '  Fairy 
Tales,"  the  "  lyittle  Female  Academy  "  and  "^sop's  Fables,"  formed  their  entire 
library.  They  used  to  take  "  Robinson  Crusoe  "  and  seat  themselves  at  the  bottom 
of  the  wide  staircase,  with  two  heads  bent  over  the  same  page  together.  When- 
ever they  turned  a  leaf  they  ascended  a  step,  until  they  reached  the  top,  and 
then  they  began  to  go  down  again. 

You  will  ask  what  sort  of  a  dress  this  little  girl  wore  over  one  hundred  years 
ago.  In  the  summer  she  wore  cambric  and  in  the  winter  a  heavy  wool  dress,  and 
at  all  times  a  pinafore — which  was  a  great,  loose  apron,  worn  over  everything 
else,  and  enveloping  her  from  head  to  foot.  It  is  pleasant  to  find  that  the  iron 
collar  did  not  take  from  little  Mary  the  love  of  play  and  of  dolls.  Her  special  pet 
was  a  huge  wooden  doll,  which  was  her  constant  companion.  I  think  the  little 
girls  who  compare  their  lives  of  to-day  with  that  of  the  little  girls  of  1782  must  be 
very  glad  they  were  not  bom  in  the  last  century. 


Unconscious  Revelations. 

The  other  day,  as  I  sat  by  my  window,  I  was  the  observer  of  a  little  incident 
which  set  in  motion  the  train  of  thought  reaching  from  my  quiet  home  to  you> 


230  UNCONSCIOUS   REVEI^ATIONS. 

wherever  you  are.  I  live  on  a  street  which  has  a  smooth  asphalt  pavement 
greatly  in  favor  with  wheelmen  and  women,  and  there  are  few  hours  between 
morning  and  bedtime  when  young  people  are  not  flying  up  and  down  its  lengths 
on  their  magical  machines. 

A  very  pretty  girl  came  sweeping  along,  managing  her  bicj-cle  with  the  grace- 
ful ease  of  a  confident  and  skillful  rider.  Her  face  was  glowing  with  health,  her 
dress  was  most  becoming,  and  her  whole  air  was  that  of  one  accustomed  to  the 
courtesies  of  polite  society,  and  used,  on  her  own  part,  to  much  gentleness  and 
consideration.  Yet,  when  another  girl,  evidently  a  novice,  swer\'ed  awkwardly 
and  narrowly  escaped  colliding  with  her,  the  pretty  young  woman  shocked  and 
amazed  the  elderly  lady  in  the  shadow  of  the  curtains,  by  exclaiming  angrily, 
"  Great  Scott !  I  wish  you  would  look  where  you  are  going  !  " 

There  was  a  bit  of  wholly  unconscious  revelation  of  character.  I  saw  that 
my  beautiful  maiden  was  not  like  the  King's  daughter,  "  all  glorious  within. " 
She  had  caught,  perhaps  from  a  schoolboy  brother,  the  trick  of  slang;  she  was 
impatient,  she  was  hasty  of  speech  and  temper,  and  she  failed  to  make  allowance 
for  the  inexperience  of  another.  I  was  saddened,  and  I  wished  with  my  whole 
heart  that  the  young  girl  could  realize  how  unfortunate  for  herself  was  the  frame 
of  mind  and  the  habit  of  petulance  which  had  made  possible  her  impetuous 
remonstrance.  I<ife  may  discipline  her  by  greater  trials  than  the  clumsy  blunder 
•of  a  fellow  traveler  on  the  road,  and  by  and  by  she  may  learn  to  repress  the 
vehement  word  of  irritation.  But  what  I  long  for,  when  I  think  of  her,  and  of 
thousands  like  her,  is  that  they  may  not  feel  the  impulse  to  needless  vexation  with 
the  errors  or  even  with  the  carelessness  of  others.  It  is  a  splendid  thing  so  to 
live  that  the  face,  manner,  voice,  and  what  the  Bible  aptly  terms  * '  walk  and 
conversation,"  are  the  expressions  of  inward  poise,  serenity  and  sweetness. 

"Such  a  one  does  not  love  her  sister,"  said  a  friend  not  long  ago,  coming 
from  a  home  where  an  invalid  had  been  lying  at  death's  door  for  weeks. 

"Why  do  you  think  so?"  was  the  inquiry,  a  very  natural  one  in  the 
circumstances. 

"  I  notice,"  the  reply  came  slowly,  "  that  she  has  nothing  to  say  of  Jean's 
sufferings,  or  of  Jean's  marvelous  patience  and  fortitude;  that  she  is  only 
impressed  with  Jean's  occasional  forgetfulness  to  thank  her  for  a  kindness,  and 
that  she  dwells  mainly  on  her  own  fatigue,  and  the  number  of  invitations  she  has 
had  to  decline,  owing  to  this  ill-timed  illness  on  Jean's  part.  Love  suffereth  long, 
and  is  kind;  love  vaunteth  not  itself,  is  not  easily  provoked;  therefore,  love  would 
lead  the  sister  who  is  well,  to  take  a  different  tone  about  the  sister  who  is  laid 
aside  on  a  bed  of  pain. ' ' 

"  She  would  disclaim  any  lack  of  affection,"  said  the  other,  "and  there  is 
the  excuse  for  her,  too,  that  she  has  had  a  long  strain,  and  is  tired." 


WASTING   OUR   TIME.  231 

"  That  last  I  grant;  nevertheless,  whether  she  is,  or  is  not,  aware  of  it,  she 
is  not  in  love  with  Jean.  The  revelation  on  her  part  is  entirely  unconscious;  but 
it  is  a  plain  revelation." 

Perhaps  you  have  often  heard  people  say  that  what  one  is,  is  of  more  conse- 
quence than  what  one  does,  and  you  have  fancied  the  saying  rather  trite.  It  is, 
however,  profoundly  true.  One  who  goes  on  his  way  living  the  Christ-life, 
brave,  honest,  fearless,  unselfish  and  magnanimous,  wins  others  to  the  Christ, 
because  he  shows  forth  the  spirit  of  the  Master.  One  who  has  not  kept  his  soul 
a  spotless  chamber  for  the  indwelling  Christ,  will  constantly  reveal,  when  he  does 
not  dream  it,  the  insincerity  of  his  professions.  We  must  be  good,  if  we  would 
do  good.  We  must  reveal  ourselves  in  a  thousand  ways,  whether  we  mean  to  or 
not;  and  if  Christ  be  in  us,  as  the  lamp  that  guides,  we  will  reveal  Christ. 


Wasting  Our  Time. 

I  am  not  about  to  recommend  to  my  readers  that  exceeding  thrift  of  time 
which  keeps  on  hand  a  book  or  a  piece  of  embroidery  for  odd  minutes,  and  which 
from  sun  to  sun  never  indulges  in  repose.  The  person  who  is  most  conscientiously 
and  most  constantly  employed  is  often  the  person  who  wastes  time,  for  employment 
is  not  invariably  good  economy,  and  it  is  sometimes  the  best  saving  which  is  also 
wise  spending. 

To  most  of  us,  day  in  and  day  out,  it  happens  that  we  do  waste,  or  at  least 
misuse,  precious  hours.  We  start  on  a  new  day  with  a  feeling  that  it  is  all  too 
short  for  what  we  have  to  do.  We  lavish  our  strength  on  tasks  which  seem  worthy 
of  accomplishment  and  endeavor,  and  yet,  were  the  whofo  truth  known,  neither 
we  nor  the  world  would  have  suffered  had  we  let  those  things  go  by.  The  toil 
has  been  put  in  the  wrong  place  and  our  time  has  been  wasted. 

For  example,  we  spend  a  great  deal  of  time  in  talking  about  what  we  mean 
to  do,  planning  over  and  over  what  may  as  well  be  settled  at  once,  and  going  into 
the  minutiae  of  things  which  are  not  sufhtiently  important  to  be  thus  regarded  in 
detail.  In  domestic  affairs  we  hesitate  and  change  our  minds,  and  cannot  come 
to  a  decision  about  the  parlor  curtains  or  the  kitchen  closets,  and  meanwhile  the 
day  is  slipping  by,  and  our  small  boy  is  playing  in  the  street,  and  growing  familiar 
with  companions  we  would  not  choose  for  him.  After  all,  the  mother's  first  work 
in  life  is  her  small  boy,  and  compared  with  him  carpets,  curtains  and  kitchen 
plenishing  are  of  the  very  smallest  account. 

We  waste  time  in  reading,  for  example,  by  trying  to  master  the  contents  of 
the  whole  of  the  daily  or  weekly  newspaper,  whereas,  in  many  instances,  the 
summar}-^  of  news  made  up  by  a  hand  skilled   in  condensing  and  selecting,  an 


232 


WASTING  OUR  TIME. 


editorial  or  two,  and  an  article  on  some  instructive  topic  would  be  quite  enough 
for  us.  Our  reading  grows  scrappy  and  does  not  feed  us  mentally  because  we 
take  no  time  for  the  strong  and  wholesome  books  which  promote  intellectual  vigor. 
We  have  the  time,  if  we  knew  how  to  manage  it,  how  to  utilize  it,  if  we  steadily 
every  day  spent  some  part  of  it  in  consecutive  reading  of  a  thoughtful  kind,  along 
lines  which  we  have  deliberately  chosen.     Time  is  well  spent  which  is  spent  iu 


5 1  m  ^' 


"  We  do  not  waste  time  when  we  take  outdoor  exercise." 

resting  when  we  are  tired.  A  lady  past  middle  age,  but  with  the  fresh  complexion 
and  clear  eyes  of  a  girl,  told  me  the  other  day  that  this  was  her  only  secret: 
"  Early  in  our  married  life,"  she  said,  "  my  husband,  who  was  a  physician,  urged 
me  to  take  an  hour  every  day  for  myself  Let  that  hour  be  absolutely  uninter- 
rupted, he  said,  by  household  cares,  by  children,  by  any  one.  Do  what  you 
please  in  it,  lie  still  and  shut  your  eyes,  or  read  a  book  you  like,  or  F't  still  in 


THE   EVERI.ASTING  LOVE.  233 

your  rocking-chair  and  knit,  but  don't  do  anything  which  taxes  your  strength, 
and  always  secure  jour  hour  of  rest."     That  was  wise  advice. 

We  do  not  waste  time  when  we  take  outdoor  exercise.  This,  too,  some 
of  us  need  to  remember.  When  we  are  ordered  by  our  medical .  counselors  to 
walk  or  drive  every  day,  to  get  thl»  air  somehow  and  set  the  blood  in  motion, 
we  are  ready  to  obey,  but  a  more  sensible  way  would  be  to  anticipate  the 
prescription  and  take  the  exercise  so  that  we  may  keep  well. 

We  may  set  it  down  as  without  exception  that  time  spent  in  worry  is  reck- 
lessly wasted.  It  is  hard  not  to  worry,  particularly  when  we  see  the  troubles 
and  mistakes  of  those  who  are  dear  to  us.  Faith  halts  when  we  are  anxious  and 
distressed  in  behalf  of  our  sons  and  daughters,  whom  we  long  to  help  and  for 
whose  good  we  sometimes  long  in  vain. 

But  even  here  our  worry  is  futile.  Even  here  we  should  cast  the  burden  on 
the  I/)rd.     Do  thy  best  and  leave  the  rest  is  a  safe  motto  for  the  Christian. 


The  Everlasting  Love. 

There  is  no  rest  for  the  weary  heart,  no  balm  for  the  sorrows  of  life,  no  ease 
for  the  back  bowed  with  the  daily  burden  like  the  realized  thought  of  the  ever- 
lasting love.  Blessed  thought  which  comes  to  us  in  the  night  watches,  calming 
disturbance,  and  soothing  the  eyes  which  care  holds  from  slumber.  Sweet  words 
of  faith  and  dependence  spoken  by  holy  men  of  old  sing  themselves  to  the  tune  of 
our  modern  melodies,  as  our  lips  move  softly  and  we  say,  "  The  lyOrd  is  nigh  unto 
all  them  that  call  upon  Him  in  truth.  Hear  my  prayer,  O  Lord,  ^ive  ear  to  my 
supplications.  I  stretch  forth  my  hands  unto  Thee,  my  soul  thirsteth  after  Thee, 
as  a  thirsty  land.  Lord,  Thou  hast  been  our  dwelling  place  in  all  generations." 
Verse  after  verse  from  the  Psalms  rises  in  memory,  as  stars  arise  in  the  sky,  and^ 
though  we  may  be  grieving  over  our  dead,  or  yet  sadder  experience,  grieving 
over  our  living  dear  ones,  we  still  can  say,  ' '  Because  Thy  loving  kindness  is 
better  than  life,  my  lips  shall  praise  Thee.  Thus  will  I  bless  Thee  while  I  live, 
I  will  lift  up  my  hands  in  Thy  name.  Because  Thou  hast  been  my  help,  therefore 
in  the  shadow  of  Thy  wings  will  I  rejoice." 

In  the  midst  of  the  day's  toil,  as  in  the  wakefulness  of  the  night,  it  is 
blessed  to  call  to  mind  the  assurances  given  by  our  Heavenly  Father  that  He 
will  always  support  and  sustain  us.  ' '  As  thy  day  shall  thy  strength  be. ' ' 
"Fear  not,  little  flock.  It  is  your  Father's  good  pleasure  to  give  you  the 
kingdom."  "Behold,  the  Lord's  hand  is  not  shortened,  that  it  cannot  save, 
neither  is  His  ear  heavy,  that  it  cannot  hear." 


234  HOW  TO   ENTERTAIN   A   HOUSE   PARTY. 

The  disciple  of  Christ  need  never  be  cast  down  nor  discouraged,  let  circumstances 
be  adverse  or  opportune.  For  the  one  cable  which  holds  against  all  strain  of 
our  infirmities,  our  wants,  or  our  yielding  to  temptation  is  the  cable  of  the 
ceaseless  love  of  God.  We  are  kept  by  the  power  of  God  through  faith  unto 
salvation.     We  do  not  keep  ourselves.     We  are  kept. 

When  we  look  about  us  in  the  world  we  cannot  help  seeing  that  earthly 
love  and  human  friendship  are  subject  to  changing  conditions.  The  staunchest 
plank  of  human  affection  may  give  way  in  a  storm.  The  wife  may  grow  cold 
and  indifferent  to  the  husband  of  her  youth;  the  husband  may  cease  to  show 
the  tenderness  and  consideration  which  once  made  her  life  a  dream  of  delight. 
The  child  going  forth  from  the  home  and  forming  other  relationships,  appar- 
ently is  weaned  from  the  early  loyalty  and  the  fondness  he  once  felt  for  the 
parents  to  whom  he  was  all  in  all.  The  father  and  mother  may  be  disappointed 
in  the  daughter  and  the  son,  and  no  longer  treat  them  with  the  proud  fondness 
of  a  happier  time.  Brothers  and  sisters  drift  apart,  and  perhaps  for  weeks  and 
months  together  they  do  not  mention  the  names  which  once  were  spoken  every 
day.  Mrs.  Hemans  made  a  true  statement  of  fact  in  her  poem,  ' '  The  Graves 
of  a  Household,"  about  the  scattering  of  many  a  family  who  "grew  in  beauty 
side  by  side,  and  filled  one  home  with  glee,"  but  we  do  not  alwaj-s  wait  for  the 
cold  hand  of  death  to  come  and  separate  beloved  kindred.  Life  wields  a  surer  and 
sharper  knife  of  division  than  death.  The  love  that  lasts  is  not  the  earthly 
love.  It  is  a  love  of  finer  tissue  and  stronger  fibre,  and  it  is  eternal,  being 
hid  with  Christ  in  God. 

Shall  we  not  cling  closer  to  that  endless  love?  "O  Love  Divine,  how 
sweet  thou  art  !  "  Shall  we  not  comfort  ourselves  with  the  knowledge  that 
we  cannot  be  lost  from  the  clasping  embrace  of  the  everlasting  arm  which 
fainteth  not,  neither  is  weary  ?  Shall  we  not  by  prayer,  by  study  of  God's  Word, 
by  meeting  with  God's  children,  by  faithful  means  of  grace,  and  bj^  frequent 
contemplation,  dwell  more  than  ever  in  the  blessedness  of  a  life  of  entire  trust,  in 
the  confidence  of  the  Father's  enduring  love? 


How  to  Entertain  a  House  Party. 

In  deciding  to  entertain  a  house  party,  the  initial  steps  are  taken  in  the 
mother's  room,  and  she  has  the  deciding  voice  in  the  matter.  The  trouble  which 
is  caused  by  the  enlarged  family,  the  setting  aside  of  the  ordinary  family  routine, 
and  the  breaking  up  of  the  family  quiet,  are  affairs  for  the  housekeeper's  canvass- 
ing before  a  single  invitation  is  sent.  But  granting  that  mother,  bless  her  heart, 
sees  no  objection  and  will  be  happy  to  forward  the  plans  of  the  young  people,  the 


HOW  TO  ENTERTAIN  A  HOUSE  PARTY. 


235 


next  thing  in  order  is  to  group  the  guests  carefully.  There  should  be  a  probability 
that  they  will  be  congenial,  that  if  already  acquainted  thej^  may  like  each  other's 
company,  and  that  if  strangers,  they  will  hav-e  enough  in  common  to  make  the 
week  they  will  pass  under  one  roof  a  pleasurable  event  to  remember. 

School  or  college 
friends  form  desirable 
elements  for  a  successful 
house  party.  So  do  a 
number  of  young  busi- 
ness friends  who  belong 
to  a  Christian  Endeavor 
Society,  or  a  Bible  class 
or  to  the  same  social  set. 


"  School  or  college  friends  form  dcsiniljle  elements  for  a  successful  house  party." 

We  will  suppose  these  young  people  to  live  in  town,  and  their  invitation  is 
from  a  friend  who  has  a  home  in  the  country.  They  are  asked  for  a  definite 
number  of  days,  the  train  or  boat  they  are  expected  to  take  is  mentioned,  and  any 
information  as  to  a  change  of  conveyances  en  route  is  given  with  clearness  and 
precision.  On  arrival  at  their  destination,  their  host  meets  and  escort  them  to  the 
house  which  is  to  be  their  home  and  the  background  of  their  varied  pleasures  during 
their  visit. 


236  WHEN   TO   DO    RIGHT. 

While  guests,  well-bred  young  people  will,  as  a  matter  of  course,  be  con- 
siderate and  polite  in  their  manner  toward  the  elders  of  the  household  in  which 
they  are  received.  To  ignore  a  friend's  parents  is  to  show  a  marked  deficiency  in 
one's  own  training.  The  guests  will  notice  and  conform  to  the  routine  of  the  house 
about  meals,  prayers,  etc.,  and  will  take  pains  to  give  pleasure  as  well  as  to 
get  it. 

The  host  or  hostess  will  have  arranged  beforehand  for  whatever  forms  of 
entertainment  will  be  most  likely  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  the  party's  enjoyment. 
There  may  be  boating,  tennis,  or  golf.  Picnics  will  be  in  order.  Charades  and 
tableaux  and  music  will  have  their  turn  in  the  evenings.  Whatever  happens  in 
the  way  of  disappointment  or  reversal  of  plans,  everj'body  concerned  will  accept 
gaily  and  without  complaint.  In  a  house  party  everybody  must  be  cheery; 
nobod)'  must  sulk;  each  must  contribute  something  to  the  general  account.  If  an 
evening  of  story-telling  be  proposed,  each  must  do  the  best  in  his  power  by  way 
of  enlivening  the  whole. 

A  house  party,  perhaps  more  than  any  other  social  opportunity,  enables  the 
youthful  disciple  to  show  his  love  and  loyalty  to  the  Master.  Not  by  preaching 
or  even  by  talking,  but  by  the  daily  walk,  by  the  habit  of  conscientious  reference 
of  all  things  to  Christ,  by  the  style  of  the  Sabbath-keeping,  by  the  daily  Bible- 
reading,  and  by  what  the  manner  of  the  life  /^before  one's  friends,  and  in  Jesus' 
sight. 


When  to  Do  Right. 

Away  with  this  idea  that  we  would  do  right  if  people,  surroundings  and 
influences  were  different. 

Ah!  do  we  not  know,  have  we  not  yet  learned,  that  to  do  right  just  where  we 
are,  and  just  as  we  are,  is  the  important  matter  for  us  ? 

What  we  should  do  is  very  plainly  laid  down  for  us  in  the  Holy  Word. 

Now  we  are  entreated,  enjoined  to  be  patient.  Not  to  be  patient  with  the 
patient  only,  but  with  all,  and  with  all  circumstances  as  well.  We  are  told  to  be 
thankful.  No  time  specified  for  the  exhibition  of  this  grace.  We  can  be  thankful 
if  all  goes  well.  Yes,  but  we  are  to  be  thankful  in  adverse  circumstances.  We 
are  to  overcome  the  obstacles  to  thankfulness. 

If  a  dear  one  from  sickness  or  other  cause,  good  or  bad,  be  fretful  or  trjdng, 
we  are  to  overcome  impatience  and  not  give  way  to  it. 

It  is  easy  to  do  right  where  there  is  no  temptation  to  do  wrong — "  easy  to 
keep  a  fortress  that  is  never  stormed  ;"  but  when  are  we  wholly  without  temptation  ? 

If  we  are  waiting  for  an  easy  time  to  do  right,  that  time  will  never  come. 
I^ife  is  not  soft,  but  hard,"  says  one  good  minister. 


SINGING   IN   THE   RAIN.  237 

It  is  indeed  time;  the  word  is,  "  fight."  Fight  what  ?  Our  own  inclination 
to  wrong.  This  day,  just  where  we  are,  just  with  whom  we  are,  just  in  what 
state  mentally  and  physically,  our  duty  is  to  do  right. 

How  often  do  we  when  alone  with  God  resolve  to  be  all  we  should  be  to  our 
dear  ones  ;  but  when  we  come  out  from  our  place  of  prayer  and  good  resolvings  we 
find  the  dear  ones  with  the  same  individuality  as  usual,  and  perhaps  some  of  the 
traits  of  this  individuality  don't  exactly  dove-tail  in  with  our  ideas  and  feelings; 
and  then,  alas!  we  forget  and  sin  by  impatience,  or  censure,  or  by  frowns  and 
unpleasant  demeanor.  If  we  could  only  remember  that  we  cannot  make  other  people 
over,  it  would  help  us  greatl3%  The  task  of  remodeling  may  be  successful  if  the 
work  is  spent  on  self. 

It  is  not  other  people's  fault  that  we  sin  by  word  or  deed.  No,  it  is  ours.  It  is 
not  that  they  provoked  us,  but  it  is  that  we  were  provoked  where  we  should  have 
borne.    Prayer  and  watchfulness  are  of  use  because  we  are  liable  to  temptation. 

Oh!  to  remember  to  do  right,  to  speak  right,  to  think  right.  We  have,  with 
pain  of  heart,  noted  Paul's  declaration  concerning  himself:  '  'As  touching  the 
righteousness  which  is  of  the  law,  blameless. ' ' 

Our  dear  maternal  parent  often  exclaims,   *'  It  is  a  ^r^a/ thing  to  do  right !" 

And  we  from  the  heart  echo,  "A  great  thing  to  do  right."  ^ 


Singing  in  the  Rain. 

Hear  my  happy  little  bird 

Singing  through  the  rain — 
Singing  while  the  fitful  showers 

Dash  against  the  pane, 
"  Blue  sky  somewhere,"  carols  he. 

From  his  fearless  heart, 
Though  the  clouds  are  gathering  thick, 

And  the  chill  winds  start. 

Sweet  and  shrill  the  silver  notes 

Weave  a  wordless  strain; 
"  Bly  sky  somewhere,"  in  my  thought, 

Is  their  glad  refrain. 
Always  sunshine  just  beyond, 

Brief  the  present  ill. 
Trouble  never  long  to  last,  • 

Is  their  meaning  still. 


238 


SINGING  IN   THE   RAIN. 


Sing  thy  sweetest,  merry  bird, 

Comforter  of  mine, 
Bringing  in  thy  little  way 

Help  from  love  divine. 


"  Hear  the  happy  little  bird  singing  through  the  rain." 

Thou  hast  given  me  the  clasp 

Of  a  golden  chain, 
Let  from  heaven  into  my  hand, 

Through  the  clouds  and  rain. 


DANCING   IN  THE  STREET.  239 

What  though  all  my  way  be  hedged, 

I^ve  shall  ope  a  door 
For  the  feet  that  follow  fain 

His  that  went  before. 
What  though  trials  test  my  faith, 

Peace  shall  yet  maintain 
Right  to  rule  in  one  who  walks 

Singing  in  the  rain. 

More  than  I  can  count  of  good 

Aye  has  been  my  share; 
Dearest  hands  to  help  me  on, 

Having  all  my  care; 
Blessings  marking  every  daj'-, 

To  the  latest  one, 
And  the  shadow  only  proof 

Of  the  glowing  sun. 

Therefore,  with  undaunted  front, 

Trusting  in  my  King, 
Shall  I  face  whatever  foe 

In  the  path  may  spring. 
So  I  hear  a  note  of  cheer 

In  the  brave  refrain 
Of  my  merry  little  bird, 

Singing  in  the  rain. 


Dancing  in  the  Street. 

The  wind  was  piercing  and  bitter, 

And  I  hurried  fast  along, 
When  sweet  in  the  street  about  me 

Came  the  lilt  of  a  little  song. 

And  a  poor  old  organ-grinder, 
With  a  monkey  dressed  in  red, 

Laughed  at  my  look  of  wonder, 
Nodding  his  grizzled  head. 

As  out  of  the  narrow  alle5'S 
And  tumbling  down  the  stairs. 

Came  a  quaint  little  throng  of  children, 
Dancing  in  merry  pairs. 


240  THANKSGIVING. 

Their  clothes  were  rags  and  tatters, 
With  broken  shoes  thej'-  were  shod, 

But  they  sang  with  cheery  voices, 
And  danced  to  the  player's  nod. 

They  didn't  mind  the  biting 
Of  the  nipping,  frosty  air. 

They  heard  the  sound  of  the  music 
And  danced  away  their  care. 

Sweet  little  lads  and  lassies, 
It  comes  to  me  as  I  look, 

That  we  all  might  be  the  better 
For  a  leaf  from  your  happy  book. 


Thanksgiving. 

"Oh  that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  His  goodness, 
and  for  His  wonderful  works  to  the  children  of  men  !  " — 
Psalm  cvii.  31. 

Dear  Lord,  are  we  ever  so  thankful. 

As  thankful  we  should  be  to  Thee, 
For  Thine  angels  sent  down  to  defend  us 

From  dangers  our  eyes  never  see; 
From  perils  that  lurk  unsuspected, 

The  powers  of  earth  and  of  air, 
The  while  we  are  heaven  protected 

And  guarded  from  evil  and  snare  ? 

Are  we  grateful,  as  grateful  we  should  be, 

For  commonplace  days  of  delight. 
When  safe  we  fare  forth  to  our  labor, 

And  safe  we  fare  homeward  at  night; 
For  the  weeks  in  which  nothing  has  happened 

Save  commonplace  toiling  and  play. 
When  we've  worked  at  the  tasks  of  the  household, 

And  peace  hushed  the  house  day  by  day  ? 


THANKSGIVING. 

Dear  Lord,  that  the  terror  at  midnight, 

The  weird  of  the  wind  and  the  flame, 
Hath  passed  by  our  dwelling,  we  praise  Thee, 

And  lift  up  our  hearts  in  Thy  name; 
That  the  circle  of  darlings  unbroken 

Yet  gathers  in  bliss  round  the  board, 
That  commonplace  love  is  our  portion. 

We  give  Thee  our  praises,  dear  Lord! 

Forgive  us  who  live  by  Thy  bounty 

That  often  our  lives  are  so  bare 
Of  the  garlands  of  praise  that  should  render 

All  votive  and  fragrant  each  prayer. 
Dear  Lord,  in  the  sharpness  of  trouble 

We  cry  from  the  depths  to  the  throne! 
In  the  long  days  of  gladness  and  beauty 

Take  Thou  the  glad  hearts  as  Thine  own. 

Oh,  common  are  sunshine  and  flowers, 

And  common  are  raindrop  and  dew. 
And  the  gay  little  footsteps  of  children, 

And  common  the  love  that  holds  true. 
So,  Lord,  for  our  commonplace  mercies. 

That  straight  from  Thy  hand  are  bestowed. 
We  are  fain  to  uplift  our  thanksgivings — 

Take,  Lord,  the  long  debt  we  have  owed! 


241 


16 


CHAPTER  XXXIL 

Fault-finding. 

'AKE  us  the  foxes,  the  little  foxes  that  spoil  the  vines,"  is  an 
injunction  of  Holy  Writ.  Among  the  prowling  foxes  which 
ravage  the  vines  of  home  comfort,  first  and  foremost  is  that 
wretched  habit  of  fault-finding,  into  which  we  drift  almost 
without  knowing  how  or  why.  It  is  like  going  down  hill,  this 
fault-finding — we  start  and  there  is  no  stopping  us;  we  go  on  from  bad  to  worse. 
A  fault-finding  husband  ruins  the  happiness  of  his  wife;  a  fault-finding  wife, 
nagging  and  scolding  on  every  occasion,  drives  her  husband  out  of  the  house. 
Fault-finding  parents  make  about  the  children  an  atmosphere  of  a  pitiless  hail 
storm,  and  children  soon  catch  the  prevalent  tone  and  in  turn  find  fault  with  one 
another.  The  habit  has  its  root,  as  most  bad  habits  have,  in  selfishness.  Once 
indulged  it  becomes  easy  to  yield  a  second  time  to  the  temptation  to  say  that  this 
or  that  thing  is  not  what  we  wish,  to  be  querulous  and  hateful  in  manner,  to  be 
satirical  and  bitter  in  word. 

Singularly,  the  table  is  often  the  arena  for  the  persistent  fault-finder.  The 
steak  is  either  tough  in  the  first  place,  or  else  it  is  not  the  right  cut,  it  is  too  well 
done  or  it  is  underdone.  The  potatoes  are  soggy,  the  bread  is  not  up  to  the  usual 
standard,  the  dessert  is  just  what  j-^ou  do  not  like.  I  heard  of  a  little  girl  not 
long  ago  who  did  not  think  rice  pudding  a  dessert  worth  eating,  and  so  one  day 
when  she  was  saying  her  prayers  she  thanked  God  for  ever>'thing  she  had  had 
that  day  except  the  rice  pudding.  Now  there  are  people  who  not  only  do  not 
thank  God  for  rice  pudding  or  for  some  other  thing  which  they  do  not  like  to  eat, 
but  they  also  are  so  rude  and  ungrateful  that  they  make  everybody  uncomfortable 
by  objecting  to  the  ill-timed  or  ill-chosen  viand  when  it  is  quite  too  late  to  get 
anything  else.  All  children  should  be  taught  at  the  outset  to  eat  such  things  as 
are  set  before  them,  and  it  should  be  a  fixed  rule  in  home  life  that  no  one  is  to 
show  irritation  or  anger  at  a  meal. 

Nothing  is  worse  for  digestibn  than  a  lack  of  cheerfulness,  and  cheerfulness 
is  impossible  where  people  are  in  a  surly  and  morose  mood.  If  anybody  is  to  be 
reproved  do  not  let  it  be  at  the  table.  The  mother  can  speak  privately  to  the 
child  in  a  way  that  will  not  call  attention  to  the  little  fault  of  manner;  but  by  no 
means  should  a  reproof  be  so  administered  that  the  attention  of  all  at  the  table  is 
turned  upon  the  unfortunate  ofiender. 

(242) 


FAUI.T-FINDING.  243 

If  the  carving  knife  is  dull,  as,  alas,  carving  knives  are  often  bound  to  be, 
let  not  the  man  of  the  house  vent  his  displeasure  upon  the  whole  family  because 
of  this  distressing  occurrence.  Rather  let  him  carve  as  well  as  he  can  without 
interjecting  remarks  about  the  knife  being  as  dull  as  a  hoe,  or  the  probability 
that  somebody  has  used  it  to  cut  bread  or  saw  wood,  or  do  some  other  thing  for 
which  car\'ing  knives  are  not  intended. 

What  folly  it  is  to  make  life  a  burden  for  anybody  by  constant  fault-finding! 
Once  in  a  while  friends  say  to  one  another,  "Tell  me  my  faults."  Nobody  does 
this  conscientiously.  The  fact  is,  we  do  not  want  our  friends  to  tell  us  our  faults, 
and  this  is  proved  by  the  quick  resentment  with  which  people  receive  the  candid 
announcement  that  a  friend  has  discovered  a  fault  in  their  character. 

Occasionally  a  parent  or  a  teacher  must  speak  words  of  criticism,  but  when  this 
is  necessary  let  it  be  done  in  private  and  with  the  utmost  kindness  and  gentleness; 
and  on  no  account  let  any  fault-finding  to  child,  or  servant,  or  friend,  be  done  in 
public.  The  hasty  word  may  leave  a  sting  which  will  not  soon  be  healed.  We 
may  quite  wisely  take  to  oiirselves  the  lesson  in  the  simple  verses  which  follow: 

If  I  had  kuown  i:i  the  morning 

How  wearily  all  the  day 
The  words  unkind  would  trouble  my  mind 

That  I  said  when  you  went  awaj-, 
I  had  been  more  careful,  darling, 

Nor  given  you  needless  pain, 
But  we  vex  our  own  with  look  and  tone 

We  may  never  take  back  again. 

For,  though  in  the  quiet  evening 

You  may  give  me  the  kiss  of  peace, 
Yet  it  well  might  be  that  never  for  me 

The  pain  of  the  heart  should  cease! 
How  many  go  forth  at  morning 

Who  never  come  home  at  night! 
And  hearts  have  broken  for  harsh  words  spoken. 

That  sorrow  can  ne'er  set  right. 

We  have  careful  thought  for  the  stranger, 

And  smiles  for  the  sometime  guest. 
But  oft  for  our  own  the  bitter  tone, 

Though  we  love  our  own  the  best. 
Ah,  lips  with  the  curve  impatient, 

Ah,  brow  with  the  shade  of  scorn, 
'Twere  a  cruel  fate  were  the  night  too  late 

To  undo  the  work  of  the  morn! 

It  hardly  seems  worth  while  to  say  it,  and  yet  I  venture,  because  there  is 
here  and  there  the  need  of  a  sort  of  caution  about  finding  fault  with  those  older 


244 


FAULT-FINDING. 


"  The  one  thing  we  cannot  escape  is  growing  old." 


than  ourselves.  Old  people  have  their  little  wa3^s,  and  sometimes  these  ways  are 
trying  to  younger  ones  who  have  not  the  traditions  of  the  former  generation,  and 
who  have  little  patience  with  the  fixed  ideas  of  their  predecessors. 


FAULT-FINDING.  245 

Stop  a  minute,  however,  and  think.  The  one  thing  we  can  none  of  us 
escape  is  growing  old.  To-day  we  are  in  the  heydey  of  youth  and  activity,  our 
energy  confronts  every  obstacle,  and  we  fear  nothing,  but  day  by  day,  week  by 
week,  by  imperceptible  steps  and  degrees,  we  are  going  forward  to  the  time  of 
silver  hair  and  lessened  strength  on  life's  downhill  slope.  When  that  time  comes 
we  shall  need  consideration  from  our  j  uniors,  and  we  shall  then  feel  that  we  have 
a_  right  to  our  own  lives,  even  though  children  and  grandchildren  wish  to  order 
them  for  us  in  their  own  way,  and  not  after  ours. 

I  have  known  old  men  and  women,  grandfathers  and  grandmothers,  made 
very  unhappy  by  the  constant  interference,  or  the  perhaps  gentle  fault-finding  of 
younger  people  in  the  home.  Let  grandmother  potter  about  as  she  will;  do  not 
venture  to  order  your  mother  around.  Refrain  from  comment  and  criticism  upon 
father  and  his  methods  of  speech  or  somewhat  conservative  preferences.  You 
have  perhaps  had  advantages  which  your  parents  never  had;  you  owe  these  advan- 
tages to  their  unfailing  unselfishness,  their  hard  work  and  their  self-denial. 

If  they  do  not  use  the  .same  kind  of  English  that  you  do,  if  they  occasionally 
have  a  lapse  in  grammar,  or  if  their  table  manners  are  not  quite  up  to  the  modem 
standard  of  etiquette,  far  be  it  from  you  to  interfere.  There  is  really  no  sin  what- 
ever in  pouring  tea  or  coffee  into  a  saucer,  as  some  old  people  like  to  do,  yet  I 
have  seen  young  people  inordinately  distressed  because  of  some  such  little  act  in 
their  company. 

I  recall  with  shame  some  young  people  who  apologized  to  me  for  their  mother's 
lack  of  acquaintance  with  the  conventionalities  of  the  day.  I  blushed  for  them 
to  think  they  were  so  ill-bred  and  crude,  and  my  heart  ached  for  the  poor  mother 
who  was  subjected  to  their  foolish  fault-finding. 

Let  me  finish  this  chapter  with  a  little  bit  of  sensible  verse  bj-  S.  W.  Foss. 
It  is  called  "  The  Soul's  Spring  Cleaning,"  and  it  seems  to  me  that  it  has  a  les- 
son for  all  of  us.  If  we  just  take  up  the  thought  in  this  homely  little  poem  we 
shall  not  be  in  much  danger  of  finding  fault  with  anybody.  And  faidt-finding  is 
an  enemy  to  avoid. 

Yes,  clean  yer  house,  an'  clean  yer  shed, 

An'  clean  yer  barn  in  ev'ry  part; 
But  brush  the  cobwebs  from  yer  head, 

An'  sweep  the  snowbanks  from  yer  heart.  | 
Yes,  w'en  spring  cleanin'  comes  aroun' 

Bring  forth  the  duster  an'  the  broom, 
But  rake  yer  fogy  notions  down, 

An'  sweep  yer  dusty  soul  of  gloom. 


246  FAULT-FINDING. 

Sweep  ol'  ideas  out  with  the  dust, 

An'  dress  yer  soul  in  newer  style; 
Scrape  irom  yer  min'  its  woru-out  crust, 

An'  dump  it  in  the  rubbish  pile. 
Sweep  out  the  hates  that  burn  an'  smart, 

Bring  in  new  loves  serene  an'  pure; 
Aroun'  the  hearthstone  o£  the  heart 

Place  modern  styles  of  furniture. 

Clean  out  yer  morril  cubby  holes, 

Sweep  out  the  dirt,  scrape  off  the  scum ; 
'Tis  cleanin'  time  for  healthy  souls — 

Git  up  an'  dust !     The  spring  hez  come  ! 
Clean  out  the  corners  of  the  brain, 

Bear  down  with  scrubbin '-brush  and  soap, 
An'  dump  ol'  Fear  into  the  rain, 

An'  dust  a  cozy  chair  for  Hope. 

Clean  out  the  brain's  deep  rubbish  hole, 

Soak  ev'ry  cranny,  great  an'  small, 
An'  in  the  front  room  of  the  soul 

Hang  pootier  picturs  on  the  wall ; 
Scrub  up  the  winders  of  the  mind. 

Clean  up,  an'  let  the  spring  begin; 
Swing  open  wide  the  dusty  blind, 

An'  let  the  April  sunshine  in. 

Plant  flowers  in  the  soul's  front  yard. 

Set  out  new  shade  an'  blossom  trees, 
An'  let  the  soul,  once  froze  an'  hard, 

Sprout  crocuses  of  new  idees. 
Yes,  clean  yer  house,  an'  clean  j'er  shed, 

An'  clean  yer  bam  in  ev'ry  part. 
But  brush  the  cobwebs  from  yer  head. 

An'  sweep  the  snowbanks  from  yer  heart  J 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
Our  Aunt  Mary. 

'OMEBODY  once  said  that  when  conversation  flagged  you  could 

always  start  it  going  by  turning  to  your  next  neighbor  and 

innocently  inquiring    '  How  long  is  it  since  you  heard  from 

your  Aunt  Mary  i        The  person  would  usually  fall  at  once 

into  the  trap  and  say       Why,   I  did  not  know  that  you  had 

met  my  Aunt  Mary,"  or  "Aunt  Mary  is  very  well,  I  thank 

you,"    or   "Aunt   Mary  has  gone  to    California,"    or    "Aunt 

Mary   is  coming  to  see  us  next  week,"  the  fact  being  that  everybody  has  an 

Aunt  Mary. 

The  sweet  word  "  Mary,"  name  endeared  to  Christians  because  it  is  the  name 
of  the  blessed  Mother  of  our  Lord,  has  woven  itself  into  every  life  and  placed 
itself  in  almost  every  home.  Quite  often  we  find  out  that  a  person  whom  we  have 
always  known  as  Jennie  or  Gertrude  or  Virginia  has  also  the  baptismal  name  of 
Mary,  and  it  is  perhaps  an  impossibility  to  find  anywhere  a  large  family  connection 
in  which  Marys  are  not  as  plentiful  as  daisies  in  summer  or  ripe  apples  in  autumn. 
Aunt  Mary  when  she  comes  to  stay  at  our  house  is  always  a  welcome  guest. 
Once  when  I  was  a  child  there  was  a  question  eagerly  discussed  in  the  family 
councils  as  to  whether  a  certain  dear  and  intimate  fnend  who  often  made  visits  at 
our  house  could  be  comfortably  entertained  during  a  winter  when  many  other 
things  were  on  foot  and  the  house  was  more  than  ordinarily  crowded.  The  elders 
were  reluctant  about  making  up  their  minds  that  they  would  have  to  put  off  the 
guest  whom  they  loved,  and  who  had  hitherto  always  come  whenever  she  chose 
and  always  been  received  with  open  arms.  A  solemn-eyed  little  child,  sitting  with 
his  toys  on  a  rug  and  apparently  too  5'oung  to  have  entered  into  the  merits  of  the 
conversation,  decided  the  matter  by  piping  up  in  a  very  resolute  voice  "  There  is 
room  enough  for  Aunt  Mary."  Little  Jack's  verdict  carried  the  da\%  and  Aunt 
Mary  came  and  stayed  as  usual,  making  the  house  brighter  by  her  cheery  presence 
and  adding  an  element  of  interest  to  all  that  was  going  on. 

There  is  many  a  sweet  Aunt  Mary  to  whom  children  go  with  quite  as  much 
confidence  as  to  their  mothers.  In  communities  where  the  trained  nurse  is  not 
easily  obtained,  and  where  primitive  neighborliness  still  lingers,  it  is  Aunt  Mar>' 

(247) 


248 


OUR    AUNT    MARY. 


who  goes,  packing  her  little  satchel  with  necessaries,  to  the  household  where 
measles  has  broken  out,  to  the  other  household  where  they  have  scarlet  fever,  or 
t»  the  other  where  death  has  entered  bringing  desolation  and  distress  in  his  wake. 
Always  she  comes  bringing  comfort,  joy  and  strength,  this  capable,  efficient, 
charming  Aunt  Mary. 

If  there  is  a  wedding  on  the  carpet,  it  is  she  who  is  consulted  about  the  great 
occasion  itself,  the  bridesmaids,  the  maids  of  honor,  the  bridal  gown  and  veil;  it 


AUNT   MARY'S  VISIT. 


is  she  who  has  known  all  about  it  from  the  very  first,  who  was  first  aware  that 
Eugene  had  looked  longingly  at  Betty,  and  that  coquettish  Betty  had  at  last 
yielded  her  heart  to  a  persistent  lover.  Very  likely  Aunt  Mary  has  a  romance  of 
her  own.     It  might  make  the  youthful  lovers  smile  to  know  that  this  staid  and 


OUR   AUNT    MARY.  249 

demure  personage  had  in  her  own  day  had  offers  from  courtly  admirers,  and  that 
perhaps  her  heart  was  still  faithful  to  one  who  for  some  reason  or  other  never  had 
the  courage  to  offer  her  his  hand. 

One  summer  day  long  ago  an  elderly  gentleman  alighted  at  a  little  station  in 
the  mountains  of  Pennsylvania.  In  this  village  there  was  a  school  for  young 
women,  presided  over  by  a  gracious  lady  with  silver  hair  and  eyes  still  bright  and 
keen,  though  she  had  seen  her  fiftieth  birthday.  I^ittle  reckoned  she  as  she  sat  at 
her  desk  or  presided  in  chapel,  or  listened  to  the  confidences  of  the  young  girls 
under  her  care,  that  a  stately  and  courtly  judge  who  many  years  before  had  wooed 
her  in  vain,  when  her  hair  was  golden  and  his  brown,  had  in  late  life  and  widower- 
hood  taken  the  pains  to  find  out  where  she  was  and  had  come  again  once  more 
to  try  his  fate.  To  the  great  astonishment  of  all  her  friends,  and  to  the  conster- 
nation of  the  girls  who  had  been  her  pupils,  one  day  it  was  announced  that  this 
lady.  Aunt  Mary  to  any  number  of  bright  young  kinsfolk,  was  about  to  enter  the 
married  state.  Do  not  smile  at  elderly  lovers.  There  is  often  a  good  prospect 
for  happiness  in  the  serenity  of  Indian  summer,  and  life's  late  afternoon  may  be 
mellow  and  sweet  to  two  who  find  it  possible  to  unite  their  fortunes  even  in  the 
waning  day. 

"  My  Aunt  Mary,"  said  a  boy,  "  is  as  jolly  as  any  other  fellow  in  town."  It 
was  really  a  great  compliment,  and  I  quite  understood  it  when  I  saw  her,  as  eager 
and  interested  as  anybody  else,  standing  and  watching  a  game  of  baseball,  and 
absolutely  shouting,  in  her  interest,  directions  to  her  favorite  players  all  over  the 
field. 

To  another  Aunt  Mary  came  a  motherless  boy,  a  boy  who  had  been  neglected, 
who  had  few  ideals,  to  whom  no  one  had  been  specially  kind  or  attentive.  This 
boy  had  not  been  started  right,  and  when  he  was  taken  under  the  wing  of  this 
gentle,  yet  spirited,  woman,  he  had  many  faults  and  failings;  but  she  knew  how 
to  reach  a  boy's  heart,  and  before  long  there  was  the  greatest  change  visible 
in  Will.  His  school  reports  became  steadily  more  and  more  creditable,  day 
by  day  he  made  friends,  the  somewhat  sullen  and  often  boorish  boy  became 
transformed  into  a  quiet-mannered,  gentle  and  altogether  agreeable  lad  whom 
everybody  liked;  and  in  years  to  come,  when  people  shall  find  him  in  situations 
of  honor  and  merit,  it  will  all  be  due  to  Aunt  Mary. 

Sometimes  Aunt  Mary  is  very  much  discouraged.  It  seems  to  her  that  she 
has  no  special  gift  or  talent,  that  she  does  not  shine,  and  that  people  could  get  on 
very  well  without  her.  She  is  less  apt  than  formerly  to  resent  the  title  ' '  Old 
Maid,"  because  not  only  are  old  maids  at  preent  as  thick  as  blackberries  in  summer, 
and  not  only  are  they  a  most  useful  and  excellent  body  of  women  without  whom  the 
community  would  fare  ill,  but  the  reproach  once  clinging  to  the  term  is  entirely 
gone. 


250 


OUR  AUNT   MARY. 


Spinsters  have  engaged  in  business  on  equal  terms  with  men,  they  are  to  be 
found  in  every  occupation,  they  are  at  the  head  of  our  schools  and  colleges,  they  go 
independently  where  they  will,  they  add  flavor  and  grace  to  society,  and  there  is 
no  place  in  which  they  do  not  fit.  They  might  have  been  married,  many  of  them, 
had  they  chosen,  but  they  did  not  choose — they  preferred  their  independence,  and 
wherever  they  are  they  are  recognized  as  quite  as  honorable  as  their  married 
friends. 

One  dear  spinster  whom  I  know — why  do  I  say  one,  for  I  know  several,  but 
one  occurs  to  me  ht  the  moment — a  woman  who  is  so  sweet  and  gracious,  so 
beautiful,  so  full  of  tact,  whose  home  is  so  lovely,  and  whose  influence  is  so  great, 
that  around  her  j'oung  people  flock,  and  her  home  is  the  centre  of  pleasure  for  all 
her  acquaintances. 

Aunt  Mary  carries  on  the  missionary  society.  Aunt  Mary  presides  at  the  tea 
table,  she  is  in  the  Sunday  School,  she  mothers  the  little  ones  while  their  mothers 
are  off  at  clubs;  in  fact,  what  does  she  not  do,  this  dear  and  beautiful  Aunt  Mary  ? 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 
The  Art  of  Living  Together. 

HE  art  of  living  together  is  not  one  of  the  least  Among  the  fine  arts. 
When  we  think  of  it,  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  a  refined  family 
affords  opportunity  for  many  little  daily  sacrifices,  for  much  exer- 

f^^     cise  of  self-denial,  and  for  the  development  of  some  of  the  noblest 
^^y-^        qualities  in  human  nature.     The   advice  once  given  to  a  mar- 
ried couple  by  a  sage,   that  they  should  take  into  their  new  home  two 
bears — bear  and  forbear — is  as  important  and  useful  as  ever  in  this  latter 
part  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

Proverbially  the  first  year  of  married  life  is  a  difficult  one,  because  husband 
and  wife  cannot  at  once  grow  accustomed  to  each  other's  little  peculiarities  and 
ways.  Also,  in  all  home  and  social  living  people  must  take  into  account  the 
caprices,  the  whims,  the  peculiarities  of  temperament,  and  the  resultant  training 
of  different  households,  all  of  which  have  an  effect  on  character,  on  manners,  and 
on  modes  of  thought. 

This  is  why  it  is  no  light  thing  to  take  into  one's  home,  in  permanent 
relationship  to  the  home,  any  one  who  is  in  some  sense  an  outsider.  A  lady  living 
by  herself,  and  in  somewhat  infirm  health,  thinks  that  the  wheels  of  life  will  move 
more  easily  for  her  if  she  have  a  companion  or  a  private  secretary,  or  some  confi- 
dential friend  who  can  take  upon  herself  little  duties  and  afford  a  certain  amount 
of  company  to  cheat  time  of  its  loneliness.  Sometimes  the  experiment  turns  out 
well,  again  it  is  an  utter  failure;  it  all  depends  on  whether  or  not  the  new  element 
proves  congenial. 

So  in  the  inevitable  changes  of  life  which  bring  aged  or  necessitous  relatives 
beneath  the  roof,  there  are  times  when  the  coming  of  these  adds  greatly  to  the 
joy  of  life,  and  again  their  strange  and  odd  individuality  proves  a  source  of 
unhappiness.  For  instance,  in  my  early  girlhood  an  aged  connection  of  the 
family  came  to  stay  indefinitely  as  a  member  of  our  household.  It  was  quite 
right  that  she  should  come,  and  we  gave  her  the  warmest  and  most  cordial  of 
welcomes.  Yet  I  never  look  back  upon  the  years  during  which  this  old  lady — a 
gentlewoman  through  and  through — was  a  member  of  our  home  without  thinking 
sympathetically  of  the  shadows  her  fretfulness  brought  to  the  youth  of  the  home, 
and  wonderingly  ^t  the  great  patience  of  my  saintly  mother. 

(251) 


252  THE   ART   OF   LIVING   TOGETHER. 

I  have  told  the  story  before,  but  I  will  repeat  it  now,  of  a  certain  morning  when 
the  dear  ladj'  did  not  descend  at  her  ordinary  time  to  breakfast.  As  she  was  usually 
a  pattern  of  promptness  we  naturally  felt  some  anxiety  on  her  account,  and  thinking 
that  she  had  been  taken  ill  in  the  night,  a  messenger  was  sent  to  her  door  and 
knocked.  Repeated  knocks  brought  no  response.  Again  and  again  we  went. 
Finally  in  great  fear  and  trepidation  we  concluded  that  she  must  either  have  had 
a  stroke  of  parah'sis  and  must  be  lying  there  speechless  in  her  bed  and  helpless, 
or  else  that  perhaps  the  Angel  of  Death  had  come  in  the  night  and  carried  her 
away. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  enter  by  forcible  means,  and  after  much 
trouble  we  broke  the  lock  and  made  our  wa}'  into  the  silent  room.  There  sat  our 
stately  step-grandmother  completely  dressed,  her  neckerchief  crossed  above  her 
black  gown,  her  beautiful  white  cap  immaculate  over  her  gray  hair,  her  spectacles 
on,  and  her  Bible  in  her  hand.  She  had  taken  a  sudden  determination  neither  to 
come  down  stairs  nor  to  answer  us,  and  as  she  looked  up  from  her  Bible  she 
remarked  placidly,  "  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  unseemly  confusion  ?  It  seems 
very  strange  that  I  cannot  be  allowed  to  attend  to  my  morning  devotions  in 
peace. ' ' 

One  can  easily  see  that  a  lady  of  this  turn  of  mind  was  not  an  easy  inmate, 
and  it  is  much  to  the  credit  of  our  home  training  that  none  of  the  children  and 
young  people  of  the  family  retorted  in  any  way,  but,  as  our  sweet  mother  told 
us,  continued  to  be  resp)ectful  and  gentle  in  demeanor  toward  this  querulous  per- 
sonality. 

There  are  times  when  we  must  live  with  those  who  are  not  congenial,  and 
when  those  who  are  not  congenial  must  live  with  us.  Whenever  this  is  the  case 
the  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  bear  with  their  peculiarities,  so  that  our  common  con- 
duct presents  no  sharp  occasion  for  criticism.  One  rule  may  be  laid  down,  and 
that  is  that  in  no  circumstances  should  we  ever  yield  to  the  temptation  either  to 
talk  at  people  or  to  talk  about  them  to  one  another.  If  there  is  a  disagreeable 
thing  to  be  said,  let  it  be  said  always  directly  to  the  person  himself  or  herself,  and 
let  it  be  said  in  the  gentlest  and  sweetest  way  possible. 

If  there  is  in  the  home  a  spirit  of  entire  and  sweet  confidence  there  will  be 
little  room  for  censure  and  criticism.  By  no  means  let  there  be  parties  in  the 
home,  or  one  person  made  the  butt  of  remarks.  Rather  if  there  is  in  a  family 
circle  a  child  or  a  youth  or  any  one  who  is  jarring,  let  the  others  form  around  that 
one  a  wall  of  defence,  shielding  him  or  her  from  the  criticisms  and  censure  of 
others  in  every  way,  giving  to  the  world  a  united  family  front.  This  can  be  done; 
it  is  often  done  by  those  who  make  of  life  a  studj^  of  serene  philosophy,  and  who 
can  thus  be  responsible  to  God  for  their  social  life  as  well  as  for  every  other  thing 
which  concerns  them. 


THE   ART   OF   LIVING   TOGETHER. 


253 


Respect  for  personal  property  is  another  factor  in  the  art  of  living  together 
agreeably.  There  are  households  in  which  nobody  seems  to  have  any  individual 
possession  which  the  others  do  not  make  free  with  at  their  pleasure.  Sisters  are 
quite  apt  to  use  each  other's  gloves  and  ribbons  and  hair-pins,  and  I  once  knew  an 
instance  in  which  a  girl  was  very  ill  and  it  was  feared  she  would  not  recover,  when 
her  sister  rushed  into  the 
room  and  said,  "Oh, 
Mary,  get  well,  get  well, 
and    I    will    never    take 


LOVING   ATTENTIONS  TO  THE  AGED. 


your  collars  and  cuffs  again  !  "  The  incongruity  of  the  remark  amused  the 
invalid  and  made  her  smile,  and  from  that  moment  she  began  to  recover.  It  is  to 
be  hoped  that  her  sister  kept  her  word.  Mothers,  too,  are  pillaged  by  their 
daughters  quite  remorselessly,  and  it  often  happens  that  mother's  handkerchief-box 


254  I'HE   ART   OF   LIVING   TOGETHER. 

or  work-box  is  regarded  as  a  sort  of  common  ground  which  everybody  may 
invade.  The  sense  of  ownership  in  some  homes  is  carried  perhaps  a  little  too  far. 
Thus  I  have  seen  a  certain  chair  regarded  as  the  property  of  father  or  mother, 
and  even  in  the  absence  of  the  owner  the  family  hesitated  to  sit  in  it  temporarily. 
This  seems  to  carr}'  the  idea  of  ownership  a  trifle  too  far.  We  need  to  regulate 
our  lives  by  common  sense  as  well  as  by  amiability. 

In  the  interests  of  peace  and  harmony  it  is  best  that  those  who  live  together 
on  intimate  terms  should  be  of  kindred  faith.  People  of  widely  diverging  reli- 
gious views  will  not  usually  enjoy  comradeship  on  the  journey  of  life  so  fully  as 
those  who  are  of  one  mind.  It  is  not  best,  as  a  general  thing,  that  husband  and 
wife  should  have  widely  differing  beliefs,  and  certainly  children  are  better  brought 
up  where  there  is  a  unity  in  the  religious  life  of  the  home. 

What  shall  we  say  of  truth  telling  ?  Ma}'  we  not  judge  that  there  is  a  candor 
which  is  misplaced,  and  that  now  and  then  it  is  just  as  well  not  to  say  every- 
thing that  we  think,  even  while  we  must  in  no  circumstances  evade  or  violate  the 
strict  obligation  of  truth  ?  For  example,  if  Jennie  comes  home  from  the  milliner's 
with  a  hat  which  is  the  pride  of  her  life, which  has  captured  her  imagination,  and 
which  she  is  sure  she  will  look  well  in,  where  is  the  kindness  in  saying,  "  I  never 
saw  anything  so  lacking  in  taste  as  that  hat;  it  is  most  unbecoming  and  does  not 
suit  your  complexion  in  the  least. ' '  Why  should  we  meet  a  sister  or  brother  in 
the  morning  with  the  remark,  "  I  never  saw  you  looking  worse.  Your  color  is 
pallid,  and  the  way  your  hair  is  arranged  gives  me  quite  a  turn."  It  is  far  better 
to  say  complimentary  things,  or  else  to  say  nothing  at  all. 

Perhaps  you  have  noticed  that  one  must  act  with  great  tact  in  telling  people 
about  any  mistake  which  they  have  made,  or  about  anything  wrong  with  their 
toilette.  A  lady  is  walking  on  the  street  and  half  a  yard  behind  her  trails  a  piece 
of  her  skirt  binding.  She  is  quite  unaware  of  this  accident  and  walks  proudly 
on  without  the  slightest  feeling  of  discomfort  in  the  matter.  If  in  your  desire  to 
help  her  you  step  up  and  say,  "Pardon  me,  madam,  but  your  skirt  braid  is 
ripped,"  she  may  or  may  not  receive  the  piece  of  information  graciously.  Quite 
often  she  will  turn  upon  you  in  anger  and  receives  what  you  have  to  say  in 
freezing  silence,  and  evidently  does  not  thank  you  for  having  observed  that  some- 
thing was  wrong  with  her  attire;  and  yet  you  have  done  her  a  kindness. 

I  believe  in  doing  the  kindness  even  if  one  is  snubbed  therefor,  and  I  have 
often  marveled  why  it  is  that  people  are  so  vexed  at  being  told  that  some  little 
thing  is  wrong  with  their  costume.  We  must  learn  in  life  to  receive  criticism  and 
reproof  at  need  without  disturbance,  and  with  some  slight  appearance  of  equa- 
nimity. A  friend  certainly  does  not  wish  to  wound  us,  and  it  is  well  for  us  to 
accept  a  suggestion  even  if  it  does  not  seem  to  be  quite  in  the  line  of  our  own 
preconceived  notion. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 
Stepmothers. 

all  the  world   loves  a  lover,  all   the  world  seems  by  unanimous  con- 

^  /^lAl^     ^^"^  ^°  ^^^^  ^  stepmother.     I  do  not  mean  that  stepmothers  in 

.  //TE*^ii         individual  cases  are  always  treated  with  aversion  or  dislike.     Many 

of  these  excellent  women  are  exceedingly  successful  in  the  difficult 

work  they  have  taken  up,  and  they  are  rewarded  for  their  labor  and 

care  by  the  fond  love  of  the  children  in  their  homes  and  by  the  respect 

of  all  who  know  them. 

A  stepmother  has  three  sets  of  people  to  please,  if  not  more.  She 
must  commend  herself  to  her  husband  and  his  children,  to  the  husband's 
relations  and  the  relations  of  his  first  wife,  the  children's  own  mother.  After 
that  she  must  run  the  gauntlet  of  criticism  from  her  neighbors  and  townspeople, 
and  even  from  strangers,  for  wherever  she  goes  accompanied  by  her  stepchildren 
the  eyes  of  those  upon  her  will  take  note  of  any  defect  in  manner  or  any  little 
irritability;  above  all  things,  of  any  difference  she  may  happen  to  make  between 
her  own  children  and  those  to  whom  she  is  acting  as  mother  in  step  relationship. 

An  own  mother  may  be  impatient  and  unjust  and  no  one  observes  it,  but  the 
slightest  dereliction  on  the  part  of  a  stepmother  calls  forth  pity  for  the  children, 
poor  things,  and  pitiless  comment  upon  the  woman  who  is  supposed  to  have 
married  her  husband  only  to  regard  his  children  as  a  burden.  In  all  literature 
and  in  all  nations  hard  measure  is  dealt  out  to  the  stepmother.  In  the  fairy 
stories,  in  lyrical  ballads,  in  the  old-fashioned  novels  and  the  new,  she  is  the  type 
of  whatever  is  despotic,  of  whatever  is  unkind,  of  whatever  is  unmotherly. 

Yet  there  are  stepmothers  and  stepmothers.  No  woman  who  undertakes  the 
office  of  stepmother,  if  she  do  so  with  a  full  conception  of  the  responsibilities  it 
involv^es,  is  anything  but  a  brave,  true  woman.  Often  the  mother-heart  is  found 
in  women  who  never  bear  a  child  of  their  own.  There  are  blessed  and  lovely 
mothers  who  simply  remember  compassionately  the  one  who  has  gone  and  do 
their  very  best  to  supply  to  those  she  has  left  the  care  and  sweet  tenderness  she 
would  have  given  had  she  lived. 

One  of  the  happiest  homes  I  have  ever  known  had  in  it  three  sets  of  children 
growing  up  together.  Husband  and  wife  had  each  been  married  before  and  each 
had  a  family  of  children.     There  came  along  by  degrees  a  third  little  family,  and 

(255) 


256  STEPMOTHERvS. 

the  various  boys  and  girls  lived  together  in  an  ideal  harmony.  The  respective 
r6les  of  stepmother  and  stepfather  were  carried  on  successfully  by  the  parents, 
who  seemed  to  show  no  partiality  to  the  younger  brood,  but  treated  all  alike. 

Stepfathers  are  less  unfavorably  commented  upon  than  stepmothers.  They 
are,  indeed,  a  rather  popular  set  of  people.  A  man's  work  taking  him  outside 
his  home  he  is  not  expected  to  stay  there  and  administer  justice,  discipline  the 
children,  or  spoil  them  by  over-indulgence.  He  does  not  have  to  wash  the  little 
hands  and  faces  a  dozen  times  a  day,  to  sew  on  buttons  or  mend  torn  trousers,  or 
settle  little  disputes,  and  therefore,  whether  he  is  father  or  stepfather,  he  gets 
along  pretty  well,  occasionally  acting  indeed  as  the  court  of  last  resort  in  certain 
difl&cult  cases,  but  ordinarily  having  a  pleasant  time  with  his  children  and 
escaping  much  of  the  triviality  which  makes  woman's  life  a  dull  routine. 

Children  are  often  set  against  a  stepmother  by  the  thoughtless  remarks  of 
relatives  and  friends,  or  of  heedless  servants,  who  take  pains  to  sow  the  seeds  of 
jealousy  and  suspicion  before  the  new  wife  comes  upon  the  scene.  This  is  cer- 
tainly wicked  work,  and  a  little  care  on  the  part  of  those  who  have  children  in 
their  hands  to  bring  up  would  prevent  it.  Many  a  stepmother  is  doing  all  she  can 
to  educate  and  train  the  children  whom  she  loves  most  dearly,  and  she  should  be 
helped  and  not  hindered  in  this  work. 


Some  years  ago  I  was  paying  a  visit  in  a  beautiful  old  home  on  lyong  Island, 
where  each  summer  as  the  month  of  August  came  round  a  widely  scattered  family 
grouped  itself  under  the  old  roof-tree  around  one  of  the  most  beautiful  women  I 
have  ever  known.  She  must  have  been  lovely  as  a  girl  and  as  a  young  matron,  for 
I  did  not  know  her  until  the  lines  gently  laid  by  time  upon  her  face  indicated  three 
score  years  and  ten. 

But  she  had  so  young  a  heart,  so  sweet  a  disposition,  such  quick  sympathy 
with  youth  and  childhood,  such  tender  comprehension  of  the  troubles  which  come 
to  people  as  they  meet  the  problems  of  life,  that  in  age  she  remained  what  she 
must  always  have  been — a  perfect  queen.  Around  her  gathered  as  long  as  she 
lived,  which  was  until  she  had  long  passed  her  eightieth  birthday,  her  children 
and  grandchildren;  and  those  to  whom  she  had  taken  the  place  of  stepmother  were 
just  as  devoted,  just  as  loyal  and  considerate,  as  were  the  others. 

Her  oldest  stepson  had  been  a  young  man  when  the  fair  young  wife  came  into 
the  house,  and  there  were  a  number  of  children  belonging  to  that  first  set.  Then 
she  had  a  large  family  of  her  own.  One  of  these  told  me  that  she  shall  never 
forget  the  shock  she  felt  when,  as  a  growing  girl,  some  meddlesome  neighbor  took 
upon  herself  to  inform  her  that  her  older  brothers  and  sisters  were  not  really  her 
own,  but  only  what  are  called  half  brothers  and  sisters.     She  rushed  home  to 


STEPMOTHERS. 


257 


throw  herself  on  the  maternal  breast  and  sob,  and  that  sweet  mother  told  her  not 
to  mind  anything  that  was  said;  that  she  loved  the  children  all  alike. 

Many  of  us  have  similar  memories  which  we  recall,  and  we  know  that  it  is  not 
the  fact  merely  of  bearing  offspring,  but  the  warm  mother  heart,  true  and  sweet, 
the  feeling  of  re- 
sponsibility in  un- 
dertaking  the  sa- 
cred trust,  and  the 
overflowing  love 
which  makes  some 
women's  hearts  a 
sanctuary  for  all 
which  needs  shel- 
ter, that  make  the 
stepmother  a  true 
mother. 

Occasionally 
one's  heart  is 
harrowed  by 
tales  of  cru- 
elty, but  these 
do  not  spring 
from  the  fact 
of    the    rela- 


"  She  rushed  home  to  throw  herself  on  the  maternal  breast. 


tionship  so  much  as  from  the  fact  of  the  narrow  and  selfish  heart  of  the  woman 
who  has  undertaken  to  care  for  children  when  she  has  no  love  for  them.  An  own 
mother  has  sometimes  been  known  to  be  injudicious,  unjust  and  severe,  and  so 
far  as  in  us  lies  it  will  be  a  good  thing  if  we  should  all  join  hands  hereafter  in 

17 


258  STEPMOTHERvS. 

opposing  the  senseless  and  foolish  prejudice  which  makes  the  stepmother  a  butt 
for  ridicule  or  a  target  for  sneers, 

Ivouisa  C.  Tuthill,  alluding  to  extreme  sensitiveness,  once  said  something 
which  stepmothers  may  find  helpful: 

"If  your  enemies  misunderstand  your  motives,  it  matters  little  if  they  are 
such  as  you  can  lay  open  to  the  eyes  of  Him  who  sits  as  a  *  refiner  and  purifier. ' 
If  you  are  led,  by  their  severity,  to  a  clearer  discernment  of  your  own  motives,  to 
a  closer  scrutiny  into  your  own  conduct,  they  in  effect  serve  you  better  than  your 
flatterers — even  better  than  your  friends.  '  You  will  form  your  own  character, 
nor  can  your  enemies  prevent  it.  Their  calumny  will  injure  you  less  than  you 
imagine.' 

"  Injuries,  real  or  supposed,  are  not  to  be  met  with  a  haughty  and  contemptu- 
ous spirit.  lyoathiug  and  disdaining  meanness  and  sinfulness,  avoid  transferring 
your  hatred  to  the  beings  who  are  guilty  of  them.  Hatred,  malice,  and  all  evil 
passions,  burn  themselves  with  the  firebrands  they  throw,  poison  themselves  with 
their  own  deadly  mixtures.  They  whose  bosoms  are  haunted  by  these  demons 
should  not  meet  with  condemnation  alone;  they  should  call  forth  the  deepest  com- 
miseration. When  you  can  *  pray  for  those  who  despitefullj^  use  and  persecute 
you,'  not  generally,  but  individually,  it  is  the  surest  proof  that  they  are  entirely 
forgiven.  The  Christian's  heart  should  bound  to  offer  forgiveness,  even  to  those 
offending  ones  who  will  not  ask  it.  Blessed  indeed  is  that  spirit  which,  in  humble 
imitation  of  the  divine  Redeemer,  can  say,  '  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know 
not  what  they  do.' 

"  But  njt  alone  toward  enemies  is  the  spirit  of  Christian  forbearance  to  be 
exercised.  Such,  alas  !  is  fallen  human  nature,  that  the  best  and  loveliest  of 
earthly  friends  have  their  darker  shades  of  character.  We  should  be  foolishly 
employed  in  endeavoring,  day  after  day,  to  count  the  spots  upon  the  glorious  sun; 
to  dwell  upon  the  faults  of  those  whom  we  love  would  be  equal  folly.  Habitually 
to  interpret  their  motives  kindly,  to  make  charitable  allowances  for  their  weakness, 
to  use  every  favorable  opportunity  to  draw  forth  their  excellence,  to  endeavor  to 
correct  their  faults  by  example  and  by  advice,  unostentatiously  offered;  this  is  the 
task  of  Christian  forbearance. 

"  Excessive  sensitiveness  to  unkindness  or  to  dislike  should  not  be  suffered  to 
mar  your  happiness.  This  may  arise  from  morbid  sensibility,  or  from  pride.  In 
either  case,  you  will  be  disturbed  by 

"  *  A  something  light  as  air — a  look, 
A  word  unkind  or  wrongly  taken,' 

from  the  friends  whom  you  fondly  love,  andweeksof  dejection  be  the  consequence. 
No  better  remedy  can  be   prescribed,  than  a  cordial,    wholesome  kindliness  of 


STEPMOTHERS. 


259 


manner  on  your  own  part,  which  will  most  probably  call  forth  the  same  manner 
from  your  friends,  Practice  that  true  Christian  courtesy,  recommended  by  the 
Apostle  Paul,  and  so  beautifully  exemplified  by  our  blessed  Saviour  in  all 
His  social  intercourse.  This  courtesy  exhibits  itself  from  day  to  day,  in  those 
'  thousand  decencies  '  that  give  to  life  its  sweetness.  If,  notwithstanding  your 
own  kindliness,  you  have  true  friends  who  are  deficient  in  courtesy,  their  want  of 
suavity  should  not  alienate  you;  with  this  unfortunate  deficiency,  their  hearts  may 
be  kind  and  benevolent.  Habituate  yourself  to  their  unpleasing  manners,  and 
steel  yourself  against  them;  a  rough  rind  often  encloses  fruit  that  is  sweet  and 
nutritious. ' ' 

Where,  as  sometimes  happens,  the  stepdaughters  are  nearly  the  same  age 
with  their  mothers,  the  problem  grows  more  difiicult  of  solution  daily,  unless  on 
both  sides  there  are  good  temper,  common  sense  and  conscience.  These  brought 
to  bear  upon  any  situation  soon  rob  of  its  worst  aspects.  A  man  has  a  right  to 
marry  a  second  time.  lyCt  this  be  conceded  and  his  family  will  accommodate 
themselves  to  the  arrangement,  even  if  they  would  have  preferred  it  otherwise. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
Love  of  Country. 

UR  country  !     Do  we   love  her?     Will  we  at  need  yield  for   her   our 
very  heart's  blood?     Is  she  dear  to  us  beyond  any  other,  so  that  the 
sight  of  her  flag  streaming  from  turret  or  mast-head  thrills  us  with 
joy,    and,  when  seen  in  a  foreign  port,  brings  the  quick  tears  to  our 
|jv     eyes  ?     When  our  country  is  threatened  by  a  foe,  are  we  ready  to  defend 
her,  pledging  her  our  lives,  our  fortunes  and  our  sacred  honor  ?     Can  we 
sing  with  all  our  souls, 

"  Columbia,  the  gem  of  the  ocean, 

The  home  of  the  brave  and  the  true, 
The  shrine  of  each  patriot's  devotion. 
Our  heart  offers  homage  to  you;" 
or, 

'  Rally  round  the  flag,  boys, 
Give  it  to  the  breeze," 
or, 

"  Hail,  Columbia,  happy  land." 

Best  of  all  our  national  hymns  do  we  count, 

"  My  country,  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty. 

Of  thee  I  sing. 
Land  where  my  fathers  died. 
Land  of  the  pilgrim's  pride, 
From  every  mountain  side 

Let  Freedom  ring  i  " 

This  is  as  it  should  be,  but  no  one  is  a  true  patriot  who  is  mereh*  sentimental 
about  his  country. 

In  this  great  mother-laud  of  ours,  there  are  not  a  few  men,  older  andj^oung-^r, 
who  are  so  indiflFerent  to  the  country's  welfare  that  they  hold  aloof  from  politics 
and  lightl}^  prize  the  freeman's  birthright,  the  ballot.  They  explain  that  bribery 
and  corruption  have  invaded  legislative  halls,  that  primary'  meetings  are  the  resorts 
of  the  vulgar,  that  gentlemen  stand  aloof  from  elections.  So  charging  their 
generation  and  their  period,  whether  falsely  or  truly,  with  a  great  shame  and  sin, 

(260) 


LOVE   OF   COUNTRY.  261 

they  do  nought  to  improve  matters,  but  simply  play  the  coward's  part,  and  refuse 
to  take  a  personal  interest  in  the  ruling  of  their  own  America.  Cynical,  hostile, 
or  indifferent,  it  is  all  one;  they  are  practically  enemies  to  the  land  which  calls 
them  her  sons.  A  share  in  her  government  is  the  birthright  of  every  man  born 
into  a  free  country,  and  if  he  despise  his  birthright  and  shirk  its  obligations,  he  is 
to  be  pitied  and  condemned. 

The  Fourth  of  July  used  to  be  so  kept  by  our  people  that  it  was  an  important 
educator  in  patriotism.  Early  in  the  morning  we  were  awakened  by  the  thunder 
of  cannon  from  fort  and  fleet,  or  from  the  village  green,  then  the  children,  rush>- 
ing  to  the  windows,  saw  everywhere  the  red,  white  and  blue  of  our  flag,  floating 
from  roof  and  spire.  There  was  a  sense  of  music  in  the  air,  jubilant,  ecstatic.- 
throbbing  and  pulsating,  in  drum  beat  and  bugle  call.  By  and  by  there  was 
the  parade,  soldiers  marching  behind  their  banners,  cavalry  in  stately  proces- 
sion riding  down  the  street,  and  then  came  the  fathers  of  the  town,  the  ministers 
and  elders  and  deacons,  the  city  magnates,  people  of  dignity  and  position,  and  the 
trade  representatives,  and  by  and  bj-  the  Sunday-school  children  in  white  frocks 
and  ribbon  sashes,  or  in  white  trousers,  and  jackets  with  brass  buttons,  according 
as  they  were  girls  or  boys. 

The  Declaration  of  Independence  was  read,  and  everybody  listened  and 
absorbed  its  lofty  sentiments.  Do  our  children  still  know  the  names  of  the  signers 
of  that  immortal  document,  do  they  yet  admire  the  bold  screed  of  John  Hancock, 
and  the  clear  chirography  of  Samuel  Adams,  and  sympathize  with  the  spirit 
which  induced  Charles  Carroll  to  add  "of  Carrollton  "  after  his  name?  We 
studied  those  names  as  we  did  our  alphabet.  Patriotism  was  part  of  our  educa- 
tion. Not  less  were  we  taught  to  look  upon  America  as  God's  hallowed  ark  of 
freedom,  the  asylum  for  the  oppressed  of  everj^  land  and  nation.  "  God  save  the 
Commonwealth  !  "  we  were  taught  to  add  to  our  prayers. 

' '  God  bless  our  native  land  ! 
Firm  may  she  ever  stand  !  " 

Let  our  flag  stream  from  the  schoolhouse  and  flutter  from  the  ships  and  wave" 
over  our  heads  as  we  walk  through  our  streets.  Only  a  bit  of  bunting?  Yes, 
but  it  means  liberty,  obedience  to  law,  protection  to  the  weak,  freedom  of  con- 
science, and  equal  rights  for  all  men.  Only  a  bit  of  bunting?  Yes,  but  it  means 
what  men  would  gladly  die  for;  it  is  the  flag  of  our  country.  God  bless  it  and 
save  it  ! 


' '  Every  American  woman  should  be  familiarly  acquainted  with  the  history 
of  her  own  country,  its  constitution  and  form  of  government.     She  should  know 


262  LOVE   OF   COUNTRY. 

that  the  stability  and  permanency  of  a  republic  depend  upon  the  intellectual, 
moral  and  religious  character  of  the  people;  upon  this  broad  principle  she  must 
act,  and  endeavor  to  induce  everybody  to  act,  over  whom  she  exercises  influence. 
To  enter  as  a  fiery  partisan  into  the  contentions  of  political  opponents  is  unbe- 
coming the  delicacy  and  dignity  of  female  character.  Men  talk  much  of  a  con- 
servative principle.  We  trust  we  shall  not  be  accused  of  presuraptuousness  if  we 
name  one:  A  high  moral  and  intellectual  character  in  the  women  of  our  country, 
that  shall  make  them  true  patriots,  preserving  a  consistent  neutrality,  and  exert- 
ing their  influence  for  the  good  of  the  whole.  lycaving  government,  and  all  its 
multifarious  concerns,  to  those  to  whom  the  all-wise  Creator  has  delegated  author- 
it}^  let  us  be  content  with  that  influence  which  is  'pure,  peaceful,  gentle,  without 
partiality,  and  without  hypocrisy.' 

"  Let  not  a  meddlesome  spirit,  in  matters  that  do  not  concern  50U,  mar  the 
pleasures  of  social  intercourse.  Must  they,  who  fly  to  your  society  for  relief  from 
the  jarrings  of  men,  be  teased  with  the  perpetual  din?  Has  the  miasma  of  pol- 
itics infected  the  whole  moral  atmosphere?  Is  there  no  elevated  ground,  where 
the}'  can  breathe  a  purer  air,  and  escape  for  a  while  into  a  serene  and  tranquil 
region?  We  remember,  some  time  since,  hearing  a  gentleman  say  of  a  great 
statesman,  who  was  his  intimate  friend,  that,  in  the  society  of  an  amiable  and 
interesting  young  lady  whom  he  admired,  '  he  was  like  a  great  mountain  by  the 
side  of  a  little  flower,  and  forgot  that  he  was  a  mountain.' 

"A  man  possessing  political  influence  is  sometimes,  in  society,  beset  by  a 
swarm  of  female  philanthropists,  urging  their  claims,  or,  as  they  call  them,  the 
claims  of  humanity,  of  benevolence,  etc.  '  Now,  sir,  j^ou  cannot  refuse  me  that 
slight  favor. '  'Do  vote,  for  my  sake,  on  my  side;  I  shall  be  superlatively  grate- 
ful.' What  is  a  gallant  man  to  do?  If  he  drive  off"  this  swarm,  like  the  fox  in 
the  fable,  another  more  clamorous  may  succeed,  until  he  is  robbed  of  ever\-  drop 
of  enjoyment  in  society.  And  is  it  certain  that  every  politician  has  principle 
enough  to  withstand  these  fair  petitioners,  when  they  urge  him  contrary  to  his 
own  better  judgment?  A  sage  and  potent  Senator,  one  of  the  most  polite  and 
elegant  men  in  the  world,  once  confessed  that  he  left  the  Senate-chamber,  when  a 
vote  was  taken  on  a  question  in  which  a  splendid  woman  of  his  acquaintance  was 
deeply  interested,  because  he  could  not  vote  against  her  while  her  dark  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  him  from  the  gallery.  True,  it  was  a  question  of  no  great  importance 
to  the  welfare  of  the  country,  and  involved  no  party  interests;  but  his  opinion 
and  his  vote  were  sacrificed  to  his  chivalrous  gallantry. ' ' 


THROUGH    DEATH   TO   LIFE.  263 

Through  Death  to  Life. 

Have  you  heard  the  tale  of  the  aloe  plant, 

Away  in  the  sunny  clime  ? 
By  humble  growth  of  a  hundred  years 

It  reaches  its  blooming  time; 
And  then  a  wondrous  bud  at  its  crown 

Breaks  into  a  thousand  flowers. 
This  floral  queen  in  its  beauty  seen 

Is  the  pride  of  the  tropical  bowers. 
But  the  plant  to  the  flower  is  a  sacrifice, 

For  it  blooms  but  once  and  in  blooming  dies. 

Have  you  further  heard  of  this  aloe  plant. 

That  grows  in  the  sunny  clime, 
How  every  one  of  its  thou.sand  flowers, 

As  they  droop  in  the  blooming  time, 
Is  an  infant  plant  that  fastens  its  roots 

In  the  place  where  it  falls  to  the  ground. 
And  fast   as  they  drop  from  the  dying  stem 

Grow  lively  and  lovely  around  ? 
By  dying  it  liveth  a  thousand  fold 

In  the  young  that  spring  from  the  death  of  the  old. 

Have  you  heard  the  tale  of  the  pelican, 

The  Arab's  Gimel  el  Bahr, 
That  dwells  in  the  African  solitudes 

Where  the  birds  that  live  lonely  are  ? 
Have  you  heard  how  it  loves  its  tender  young. 

And  cares  and  toils  for  their  good? 
It  brings  them  water  from  fountains  afar, 

And  fishes  the  sea  for  their  food. 
In  famine  it  feeds  them — what  love  can  devise! — 

With  blood  of  its  bosom,  and  feeding  them  dies. 

Have  you  heard  the  tale  they  tell  of  the  swan, 

The  snow-white  bird  of  the  lake  ? 
It  noiselessly  floats  on  the  silvery  wave, 

It  silently  sits  in  the  brake; 


264  THROUGH    DEATH    TO   UFE. 

For  it  saves  its  song  till  the  end  of  life, 

And  then  in  the  soft,  still  even, 
'Mid  the  golden  light  of  the  setting  sun 

It  sings,  as  it  soars  into  heaven; 
And  the  blessed  notes  fall  back  from  the  skies, 

'Tis  its  only  song,  for  in  singing  it  dies. 

Have  )^ou  heard  these  tales  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  one, 

A  greater  and  better  than  all  ? 
Have  you  heard  of  Him  whom  the  heavens  adore, 

Before  whom  the  hosts  of  them  fall  ? 
How  He  left  the  choirs  and  anthems  above 

For  earth  in  its  vvailings  and  woes, 
To  suffer  the  shame  and  the  pain  of  the  cross, 

And  die  for  the  life  of  His  foes  ? 
O  Prince  of  the  noble  !  O  Sufferer  divine  ! 

What  sorrow  and  sacrifice  equal  to  thine  ? 

Have  you  heard  this  tale,  the  best  of  them  all, 

The  tale  of  the  Holy  and  True  ? 
He  died,  but  His  life  now  in  untold  souls 

Lives  on  in  the  world  anew. 
His  seed  prevails,  and  is  filling  the  earth 

As  the  stars  fill  the  skies  above. 
He  taught  us  to  yield  up  the  love  of  life 

For  the  sake  of  the  life  of  love. 
His  death  is  our  life.  His  loss  is  our  gain, 

The  joy  for  the  tear,  the  peace  for  the  pair 

Now  hear  these  tales,  ye  weary  and  worn, 

Who  for  others  do  give  up  your  all; 
Our  Saviour  hath  told  you  the  seed  that  would  grow 

Into  earth's  dark  bosom  must  fall; 
Must  pass  from  the  view  and  die  away. 

And  then  will  the  fruit  appear; 
The  grain  that  seems  lost  in  the  earth  below 

Will  return  many-fold  in  the  ear; 
By  death  comes  life,  by  loss  comes  gain, 

The  joy  for  the  tear,  the  peace  for  the  pain. 


A  GIFT   TO   THE   LORD.  265 

A  Patriotic  Woman. 

Miss  Helen  Gould  has  endowed  the  school  of  engineering,  University'  of  New 
York,  with  an  additional  $10,000,  which  brings  her  benefactions  to  a  total  of 
$60,000.  This  does  not  represent  all  that  she  is  supposed  to  have  contributed  to  the 
University  of  New  York.  A  contribution  of  $250,000  was  made  on  May  27,  1895, 
with  the  proviso  that  the  name  of  the  giver  should  be  kept  secret.  It  was  generally 
rumored  that  the  unknown  contributor  was  Miss  Gould,  who  wished  in  this  way  to 
make  amends  for  the  omission  of  any  bequest  to  the  university  in  her  father's  will. 
Miss  Gould's  benefactions  to  charitable  and  educational  institutions  have  been 
countless,  but  so  great  has  been  her  dislike  to  the  association  of  her  name  with 
them  that  only  a  small  part  of  her  good  work  is  known.  Her  sympathies  have  gone 
forth  especially  for  the  relief  of  poor  children.  Among  the  institutions  under  her 
special  patronage  are  a  home  for  tenement-house  children,  at  Tarry  town,  and  the 
Kindergarten  and  Potted  Plant  Association,  near  that  place,  to  which  she  recently 
gave  a  valuable  tract  of  land.  At  the  time  of  the  great  tornado  in  St.  Louis, 
she  immediately  contributed  $100,000  for  the  relief  of  the  homeless  sufferers. 
She  presented  a  scholarship  to  Wellesley  College  a  year  ago,  and  last  January 
gave  $5000  to  found  a  scholarship  at  Mount  Holyoke  College,  in  memory  of 
her  mother. 


A  Gift  to  the  Lord. 

There  is  something  the  dear  Lord  wants  on  earth, 

That  nobody  else  can  give 
Except  yourself,  to  the  blessed  Lord 

Who  came  to  the  earth  to  live; 
Who  walked  about  in  its  crowded  ways, 

And  prayed  in  its  hills  alone. 
Who  had  joyful  days  and  sorrowful  days 

On  this  earth  where  He  sought  His  own. 

The  something  on  earth  which  the  dear  Lord  wants 

And  which  only  you  can  give, 
Is  the  loyal  love  of  your  heart,  my  child. 

And  your  earnest  will  to  live 
Soldier  and  servant  of  Christ  the  King, 

To  watch  for  the  glance  of  His  eye, 
To  cherish  His  honor  and  do  His  work 

While  the  flying  days  go  by. 


266  FRANCES   WII.I.ARD    AND   THE   REPORTER. 

There's  something  the  dear  lyord  wants  in  Heaven, 

And  waits  till  it  reach  Him  there, 
The  sight  of  a  soul  that  turns  from  sin 

And  uplifts  the  penitent's  prayer. 
And  you  may  give  to  our  Lord  in  Heaven 

That  gift  which  will  reach  the  throne. 
And  add  a  joy  to  the  Blessed  One 

Who  would  gather  home  His  own. 

In  earth,  in  Heaven,  the  dear  L^ord  sees 

Each  of  us  quite  apart 
From  the  throng  who  are  ever  burdening 

The  love  of  His  tender  heart. 
And  each  of  us  to  the  Lord  may  give 

An  offering  He  will  take, 
And  prize  through  the  ages  ever  more 
'  .  For  the  humble  giver's  sake. 


Frances  Willard  and  the  Reporter. 

The  Washington  Post  says  that  when  Frances  Willard  lay  dead  in  Chicago, 
among  the  flowers  near  her  was  a  bunch  of  violets  from  a  Washington  newspaper 
woman.  "  I  never  saw  Mi.ss  Willard  but  once,"  said  the  newspaperwoman  the 
day  she  sent  the  flowers.  ' '  It  was  in  a  Western  city.  I  was  reporter  on  a  local 
paper,  discouraged,  overworked,  blue,  homesick,  and  altogether  miserable,  for  I 
was  only — well,  I  wasn't  out  of  my  teens,  and  I  had  been  away  from  home  only 
a  few  months.  Miss  Willard  came  to  the  city.  I  was  sent  to  her  hotel  to  ask  her 
something  impertinent.  Miss  Willard  was  ill,  but  sent  word  that  I  might  come 
up.  I  found  her  sitting  in  an  easy  chair,  very  pale,  but  very  sweet.  I  had  only 
begun  to  tell  my  errand  when  she  rose  and  came  toward  me.  She  put  her  hands 
on  my  shoulders.  'Why,  dearie,'  she  said,  'how  tired  you  look!  Take  vcvj 
chair  child. '  And  I — well,  nobody  had  called  me  '  dearie '  for  so  long,  nobody 
had  called  me  '  child,'  that  I — well,  I  put  my  head  on  Frances  Willard's  shoulder 
and  cried  it  all  out.  I  had  never  seen  her  before;  I  have  never  seen  her  since, 
but  for  the  memory  of  those  few  kind  words  I  say  :  God  bless  Frances  Willard. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

College  or  Business  ? 

a  certain  point  in  his  development  the  boy  must  decide,  or  his 
parents  must  decide  for  him,  whether  he  is  to  leave  school  at  four- 
teen or  fifteen,  learn  a  trade,  or  go  into  a  factory  or  store,  with 
a  view  to  entering  business  life,  or  whether  instead  he  shall 
proceed  with  his  education,  and  go  to  college.  The  latter  course 
means  four  years  devoted  to  study  under  good  instructors,  and  insures  to 
the  responsible  sort  of  lad,  an  excellent  foundation  for  the  future.  A 
college  course  is  not  indispensable  to  success.  Some  of  our  most  conspicuous 
public  men  never  went  beyond  a  country  school.  William  Dean  Howells, 
our  foremost  American  author,  is  the  product  of  the  printing  office  and  the  home 
library,  A  man  may  do  without  college,  and  still  shine.  And  to  some  persons, 
not  fond  of  study  nor  devoted  to  learning  in  any  of  its  aspects,  time  spent  in  col- 
lege is  rather  a  waste.  They  would  do  better  to  go  at  once  into  the  daily  drill  of 
counting-room  or  office. 

College  does  not  unfit  a  man  for  business,  however.  Granting  that  he  has 
ability,  accuracy,  and  the  tendency  to  grasp  the  matter  in  hand,  which  is  an  essen- 
tial of  business  success,  his  capacity  will  be  enlarged,  his  mind  will  be  a  more 
facile  tool,  his  powers  will  be  broadened  by  the  collegiate  training.  In  certain 
lines  of  business  college  graduates  are  preferred  to  others,  because  their  prolonged 
period  of  study  has  made  them  manlier,  and  has  taught  them  how  to  cope  with 
men. 

Apart  from  their  direct  bearing  on  character,  the  college  friendships  are  of 
great  value  indirectly  to  young  men.  A  small  college  equally  with  a  large  one, 
brings  together  men  from  widely  diflFering  homes,  and  from  various  parts  of  the 
country.  Angles  are  rubbed  off,  provincialisms  are  softened,  and  men  are  brought 
nearer  to  each  other  in  the  attrition  of  the  college  life,  as  well  as  in  its  agreeable 
social  opportunities. 

Colleges  for  Women. 

Nobody  can  visit  a  woman's  college,  Mount  Holyoke,  or  Smith,  Wellesley 
or  Vassar,  Wells  or  Baltimore,  or  Randolph-Macon,  Barnard,  Radcliffe,  or  any 
other  college,  without  being  impressed  with  the  all-round  training  girls  receive 

(267) 


268  COLLEGE   OR    BUSINESS? 

in  these  admirable  institutions.  These  young  women  will  be  better  wives,  better 
mothers,  better  daughters,  for  their  years  at  college.  And,  if  they  do  not  marry, 
they  will  be  better  business  women,  journalists,  doctors,  teachers,  ministers, 
workers  in  all  fields,  because  of  their  college  associations. 

Co-Education. 

A  great  deal  may  be  said  for  co-education.  As  we  see  it  at  Oberlin,  Cornell, 
Syracuse  and  Ann  Arbor,  at  Brown  University,  at  Madison,  Wisconsin,  and  else- 
where, it  shows  how  natural  is  the  arrangement  which  sets  young  people  side  by 
side  in  the  classroom,  as  in  the  family  or  the  church.  Very  little  flirtation  is 
found  in  the  co-educational  college,  for  there  is  little  temptation  to  flirt  with  a 
man  or  a  girl,  whose  Latin  may  be  better  than  your  own,  and  whose  demonstra- 
tion on  the  blackboard  may  put  yours  to  shame. 

Says  Hamerton  pithily : 

"  Whatever  you  study,  some  one  will  consider  that  particiilar  study  a  foolish 
waste  of  time. 

' '  If  you  were  to  abandon  successively  every  subject  of  intellectual  labor 
which  had,  in  its  turn,  been  condemned  by  some  advisor  as  useless,  the  result 
would  be  simple  intellectual  nakedness.  The  classical  languages,  to  begin  with, 
have  long  been  considered  useless  by  the  majority  of  practical  people — and  pray, 
what  to  shop-keepers,  doctors,  attorneys,  artists,  can  be  the  use  of  the  higher 
mathematics?  And  if  these  studies,  which  have  been  conventionally  classed  as 
serious  studies,  are  considered  unnecessary  notwithstanding  the  tremendous 
authority  of  custom,  how  much  the  more  are  those  studies  exposed  to  a  like  con- 
tempt which  belong  to  the  category  of  accomplishments  !  What  is  the  use  of 
drawing,  for  it  ends  in  a  worthless  sketch  ?  Why  should  we  study  music  when, 
after  wasting  a  thousand  hours  the  amateur  cannot  satisfy  the  ear  ?  A  qtioi  bon 
modern  languages  when  the  accomplishment  only  enables  us  to  call  a  waiter  in 
French  or  German  who  is  sure  to  answer  us  in  English  ?  And,  what,  when  it  is  not 
your  trade,  can  be  the  good  of  dissecting  animals  or  plants  ?  " 

Thus,  one  must  cultivate  independence,  and  study  what  he  wishes,  in  distinc- 
tion from  what  is  forced  upon  him. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

Homes  for   Spinsters. 

"NE  of  the  greatest  problems  the  self-supporting  woman  in  our  large 
cities  has  to  face  is  the  question  of  a  home.  How  and  where  shall  the 
working  girl  without  home  ties  live  ?  If  she  has  a  relative  to 
assume  the  care  and  work,  or  if  she  has  herself  sufl&cient  resources 
and  self-reliance,  there  is  no  reason  why  she  should  not  keep  house.  Or 
if  this  is  not  feasible  fortunate  is  she  who  is  taken  into  a  congenial 
private  familj-.  Really  homelike  boarding  houses  do  exist,  but  not 
every  one  who  seeks  can  find  or  can  afford  to  pay  for  when  found.  The  modern 
apartment  house  has  possibilities  of  a  home  for  three  or  four  banding  together  to 
share  work  and  expenses.  Any  one  of  these  methods  of  living  may  be  within 
the  reach  of  a  woman  who  is  earning  twelve  dollars  a  week  and  upwards.  She 
may  weigh  the  disadvantages  and  compensations  of  each  and  choose,  yet  even  for 
her  the  choice  is  not  always  easy. 

What  about  girls  whose  weekly-  wage  is  less  than  eight,  or  even  less  than  five 
dollars?  What  becomes  of  these — the  young,  the  inexperienced,  the  weak,  the 
stranger  in  the  great  city,  discouraged  and  perhaps  tempted  ?  Where  shall  such 
find  shelter,  protection  and  wholesome  social  life  ?  This  matter  of  clean,  inde- 
pendent, self-respecting  existence  for  working  women  on  small  pay  in  large  cities 
is  so  important  a  phase  of  social  economics  that  government  has  turned  its 
attention  to  it.  The  latest  bulletin  issued  by  Hon.  Carroll  D.  Wright  for  the 
Department  of  lyabor  is  devoted  in  part  to  a  study  of  homes  and  clubs  for  self- 
supporting  girls,  signed  by  Mary  S.  Fergusson. 

Most  of  us  are  familiar  with  the  boarding  home  as  it  exists  in  connection 
with  the  Women's  Christian  Associations,  but  it  is  not  generally  known  how 
many  similar  homes  exist  on  a  smaller  scale  in  various  cities,  under  both  Protes- 
tant and  Roman  Catholic  auspices.  The  first  organized  effort  in  this  country  to 
offer  a  comfortable  and  attractive  home  to  self-supporting  women,  at  rates  within 
the  means  of  those  earning  small  wages,  was  made  in  1856  bj^  the  Ladies' 
Christian  Union  in  New  York  City.  Baltimore  came  next,  with  its  Female  Chris- 
tian Home  established  in  1865.  The  Labor  Department  reports  statistics  of 
ninety  boarding  homes  and  clubs  existing  to-day  in  forty-six  cities.  But  even  in 
New  York,   Boston,   Chicago,  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  St.  Louis  and  Cincinnati, 

(269) 


270 


HOMES    FOR  SPINSTERS. 


where  the  Dest  provision  for  women  wage-earners  is  made,  the  supply  is  entirely 
inadequate  to  the  demand,  while  in  some  of  our  other  populous  cities  little 
attention  is  paid  to  this  matter. 

The  essential  features  of  the  boarding  home  are  the  protective  supervision, 
personal  interest  and  moral  support  afforded  by  the  home  roof,  the  house  mother 
and   association  with  other  women  similarly  circumstanced.     At    none  of  these 


A  comfortable  and  attractive  home." 


homes  is  the  boarder  an  object  of  charity,  although  many  of  them  owe  their 
object  to  philanthropic  effort.  They  are  all  founded  upon  the  principle  of  mutual 
aid  and  co-operation  and  are  wholly  or  partly  self-supporting. 

Of  necessity  more  or  less  strict  oversight  is  maintained.  .  Boarders  are  obliged 
to  keep  rules  and  adapt  themselves  to  the  order  of  the  household.  Not  infre- 
quently the  working  girl  chafes  against  the  restraints  and  complains  of  loss  of 
freedom.     But  what  is  the  alternative  ?     A  third-rate  boarding  house,  or,  worse 


HOMES   FOR   SPINSTERS.  271 

yet,  a  cheap  lodging  house,  in  which  she  lives  by  herself,  drifts  about  from  place 
to  place  for  meals,  and  receives  her  friends  and  acquaintances  in  her  bedroom  or 
meets  them  on  the  streets  or  in  questionable  places  of  amusement.  If  she  refuses 
to  avail  herself  of  such  opportunities  of  social  intercourse,  she  lives  a  life  of  lone- 
liness, detrimental  to  health  and  happiness.  Our  own  acquaintance  with  such 
girls  confirms  Miss  Fergusson's  statement  that  for  them  "  home  has  no  meaning 
except,  perhaps,  as  a  memory,  and  all  the  restraining  influences  of  home  and 
home  ties  give  place  to  an  independence  which  is  perilous  and  a  freedom  that  only 
the  strongest  can  safely  use." 

In  some  cities,  where  women  have  been  unwilling  to  take  either  of  these  alterna- 
tives boarding  clubs  have  been  formed.  These  are  co-operative  enterprises  which 
owe  their  origin  to  a  revolt  against  authority  as  administered  by  a  paid  officer  in  the 
boarding  home,  as  well  as  to  an  abnormal  sensitiveness  to  receiving  benefits  which 
might  be  regarded  as  charity.  The  boarding  club  aims  to  become  independent  of 
outside  financial  help  and  to  establish  itself  as  an  economic  success.  This  has 
been  done  by  the  Jane  Club,  of  Chicago,  through  a  system  of  co-operative  house- 
keeping. In  other  cases  the  plan  is  to  furnish  a  home  to  a  limited  number  in 
connection  with  a  restaurant  having  large  accommodations.  The  Working  Girls' 
Club,  of  Buffalo,  is  a  conspicuous  example  of  this  class. 

This  movement  is  still  in  its  experimental  stage.  For  the  better  paid  worker, 
morall)'  strong  enough  for  the  independence  of  such  club  life,  yet  glad  of  the 
protection  and  social  opportunities  afforded  by  numbers,  this  may  be  a  solution  of 
the  problem  of  living.  It  is  not  to  be  denied,  however,  that  such  a  movement 
strikes  to  some  extent,  at  least,  at  the  root  of  home  life,  of  which  the  very  essence 
is  mutual  dependence  and  willingness  to  sacrifice  individual  freedom.  Neither 
the  boarding  home  nor  the  boarding  club  may  offer  an  ideal  home  for  the  working 
girl  on  small  pay,  but  they  are  the  best  substitutes  for  a  real  home  that  we  can 
offer  her.  Now  that  the  commissioner  of  labor  has  called  attention  to  the  impor- 
tance of  this  matter  from  the  standpoint  of  social  economics  as  well  as  that  of 
humanity,  it  is  to  be  hoped  there  will  be  increased  effort  to  multiply  and  improve 
such  institutions,  and  to  add  opportunities  for  social  pleasures  and  self-culture. 

An  interesting  writer  tells  in  Harper' s  Bazar  of  her  own  experience  in  making 
comfortable  and  homelike  her  spinster  dwelling,  entering  very  fully  into  the 
several  details  of  furnishing  and  managing  the  same,  making  the  most  of  limited 
space  and  overcoming  other  difficulties.  In  her  view  her  home  is  a  growth,  and 
the  woman  who  wishes  to  make  hers  ideally  attractive  must  let  it  develop  by 
degrees. 

She  says,  speaking  of  the  ordinary  flat,  in  small  apartments  no  provision  is 
made  for  the  storing  of  unused  articles.  Chairs,  step-ladders  and  tables  have  to 
be  put  away  on  top  of  the  small  trunk  j-^ou  would  take  away  for  a  Sunday.     But 


272  HOMES   FOR   SPINSTERS. 

you  learn  after  a  little  to  have  divans  that  open,  window-boxes  that  will  hold 
anything,  dress-boxes  that  slide  under  beds  like  old-fashioned  trundle-beds.  You 
learn,  in  fact,  to  adapt  yourself  to  conditions,  and  finally  to  eliminate  the  sense 
of  confusion  from  the  home.  For  all  that,  the  spinster  is  strongly  advised  to  get 
space  when  she  can.  She  may  be  tempted  into  a  small  apartment  b\'  the  idea  of 
gaining  coziness.  But  coziness  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  size  of  a  room.  It 
depends  upon  the  distribution  of  the  furniture,  upon  the  spirit  of  the  mistress  who 
arranges  it.  A  tiled  bathroom  in  a  new  flat  can  never  compensate  yo\i  for  a  din- 
ing-room too  small  for  the  comfort  of  j'our  guests,  or  a  parlor  which  allows  no  free 
movement  around  it. 

Choose  an  apartment,  if  possible,  with  a  back  and  front  door;  but  if  that 
cannot  be  accomplished,  at  least  insist  upon  one  with  a  hall  that  does  not  run 
through  any  room — even  the  dining-room.  With  two  hall  doors  j-ou  have  less 
confusion  in  the  coming  and  going  of  guests  and  messengers,  and  the  maid  in  the 
kitchen  has  much  embarrassment  spared  her  and  her  friends.  I  know  that  there 
are  those  who  think  it  savors  of  the  snob  to  make  domestics  use  different  doors 
and  elevators  from  their  point,  but  there  are  parlors  without  number  in  many 
small  apartments — where,  for  instance,  a  mother  and  daughter  have  to  live  together 
and  economize  space — in  which  the  bureau  is  found  in  the  parlor  or  is  to  be  seen 
from  it.  A  bureau  should  always  be  concealed  by  a  screen  when  out  of  a  bedroom. 
The  casual  visitor  should  never  even  get  a  glimpse  of  it,-  for  the  whole  meaning 
and  purpose  and  beauty  of  a  living-room  are  at  once  destroyed  by  it.  WTien  the 
exigencies  of  life  demand  that  a  parlor  should  not  be  kept  intact,  you  could  easih' 
use  a  desk  instead  of  a  bureau,  putting  the  toilet  articles  inside  and  keeping  the 
desk  closed.  If  a  mirror  is  necessarj-,  make  it  part  of  the  decoration  of  the 
room;  put  it  over  the  mantel-piece  or  arrange  it  as  a  corner  mirror,  but  never  let 
it  give  the  impressicn  of  dressing  by  it.  "  In  order  to  be  beautiful  it  is  necessary 
to  suffer,"  says  a  French  proverb,  referring  to  the  toilet  of  women,  and  in  a  small 
apartment  in  order  to  have  a  home  that  will  lack  in  no  refinement  it  is  necessary 
to  suffer  even  more  at  times. 

Again,  whe^  one  has  to  sleep  in  a  parlor,  use  a  divan,  not  a  folding-bed.  A 
folding-bed  is  a  device  of  the  economical,  a  trick  through  which  any  one  can  see. 
But  a  divan,  while  a  little  more  trouble  to  arrange  at  night,  is  at  least  an  honest 
bit  of  furniture  by  da^-,  not  pretending  to  be  bookcase  or  desk,  or  even  sideboard, 
as  is  sometimes  the  case.  A  folding-bed,  moreover,  is  never  of  use  except  at 
night,  while  a  divan  can  be  used  at  all  hours.  With  its  heaps  of  cushions,  it  can 
be  made  quite  the  prettiest  feature  in  a  room.  And  just  here  it  maj'  be  well  to 
say  that  a  scheme  of  color  for  a  divan  and  cushions  is  of  quite  as  much  importance 
as  for  the  walls  of  the  room  itself.  If  one  is  careless  about  this,  or  gathers  cushions 
together  of  every  color  and  hue,  and  is  pleased  only  b}^  the  number,  one  produces 


HOMES   FOR  SPINSTERS  273 

at  once  distracting  and  jarring  notes,  and  all  the  restful  influence  of  the  room  is 
at  once  destroyed. 

In  a  bedroom  nothing  is  really  accomplished  in  the  furnishing  unless  a  certain 
peace  and  serenity  suggest  themselves  in  it,  unless  daintiness  and  freshness  and 
something  more  than  mere  cleanliness  are  felt.  For  here  all  the  preparations  for 
meeting  the  world  are  made;  here  the  body  and  mind  are  refreshed  by  sleep,  old 
garments  are  exchanged  for  new. 

A  bedroom  should  be  the  airiest,  the  sweetest,  the  prettiest  room  in  the 
house.  No  woolen  hangings  or  tablecloths  should  disfigure  it.  Scrupulous  order 
should  prevail.  If  there  be  space,  there  should  be  a  sofa  on  which  you  can  rest 
during  the  day. 

Nothing  is  ordinarily  more  discouraging  to  a  beginner  than  to  see  the  wealth 
of  another's  full  accomplishment.  To  the  beginner  in  a  spinster  home,  in  which 
she  enters  unfortified  by  the  host  of  wedding-presents  that  always  accompany  the 
bride  who  makes  a  similar  start,  it  sometimes  seems  that  the  hideous  bareness  of 
her  first  venture  will  never  be  relieved.  But  it  is  well  to  remember  that  the 
tendency  of  most  things  when  started  is  to  grow.  One  has  only  to  make  a  few 
sacrifices  in  the  beginning,  to  exercise  a  little  judgment,  and  the  desire  of  one's 
heart  is  finally  accomplished.  If  to-day  your  choice  lies  between  a  new  hat  and  a 
sofa  cushion,  and  your  hat  can  possibly  do  for  a  little  while  longer,  get  the  sofa 
cushion,  for  the  sofa  cushion  will  outlast  a  dozen  hats  and  may  become  a  part  of 
the  permanent  furniture  of  your  room,  while  your  hat  will  be  old-fashioned  before 
two  seasons  have  passed. 

It  is  in  the  exercise  of  judgment  in  these  directions,  and  by  making  little 
sacrifices  when  beginnings  are  made,  that  the  problem  of  furnishing  is  simplified 
for  the  spinster  and  her  task  made  easy.  Her  step  into  her  new  home  is  a 
voluntary  one,  and  none  of  the  cares  which  it  involves  should  be  a  burden  to  her. 
One  object  of  the  suggestions  made  in  this  volume  has  been  to  simplify  her  task, 
to  give  her  the  results  of  others'  experience,  and  to  help  her  to  avoid  those 
mistakes  which  must  mark  the  failure  of  any  home  begun  upon  a  wrong  basis. 

Settle  your  kitchen  first.  It  is  right  to  do  this  for  the  sake  of  those  who 
work  for  you,  and  greater  content  will  be  felt  throughout  your  home.  You  do 
not  make  a  contract  with  your  domestics  for  personal  sacrifices,  but  for  certain 
services.  It  is  you  who  must  make  the  sacrifices  when  sacrifices  are  necessary, 
you  who  must  go  without  one  thing  for  the  sake  of  others  more  essential  to  you. 
For  yours  is  the  home,  yours  the  duty,  the  obligation,  the  privilege  of  making  it. 
You  can  hardly  have  a  right  to  demand  sacrifices  of  3'our  employe,  or  to  murmur 
if  you  do  not  get  them,  unless  you  too  bring  something  more  to  the  bargain 
between  you  than  a  question  of  so  many  dollars  a  month.  Your  kitchen  once 
furnished,  your  work   in    that   direction    is   practically  done.     It  costs  little  to 


274  HOMES    FOR   vSPINSTERS. 

replenish  tins  and  china,  after  all.     Your  table  and  refrigerator  last  for  ^-ears,  as 
do  all  the  solid  pieces. 

When  it  comes  to  furnishing  the  rest  of  your  apartment,  pause  before  you 
begin.  Realize  that  nothing  can  ever  be  made  perfect  in  it  if  the  ground-work  is 
bad,  if  the  color  of  the  walls  lacks  repose,  or  your  carpet  has  a  figure  in  it  that 
jumps  at  you  whenever  you  look  at  it.  Decide  quietly  on  some  scheme  of  color — 
whether  your  dining-room  shall  be  rose-pink  and  green,  or  blue  and  white,  with 
china  entering  in  as  part  of  the  decoration.  Think  a  long  time  before  you  commit 
yourself  to  a  red  and  white  parlor,  or  one  of  white  and  gold;  but  if  you  do  decide 
on  gold,  never  get  a  gilt  paper,  unless  you  want  your  nerves  eternally  distracted 
b}'  the  constant  changes  in  tone  and  color  which  a  gilt  paper  undergoes  in  different 
lights.  Avoid  also  all  conspicuous  figures  in  your  paper  if  you  want  your  pictures 
to  look  well. 

Make  all  your  rooms  express  the  uses  for  which  they  were  intended,  and 
when  necessity  compels  you  to  make  certain  combinations  and  compromises,  guard 
yourself  at  every  turn,  preserve  as  many  of  your  family  traditions  as  possible, 
and  always  be  careful  to  subordinate  one  use  to  another.  If,  for  instance,  j'ou 
mu.st  sit  as  well  as  eat  in  your  dining-room,  never  let  the  sitting-room  feature 
predominate  over  the  other,  or  your  dining-room  will  grow  to  look  as  if  dining 
were  a  haphazard  and  accidental  part  of  life,  indulged  in  when  other  things  were 
cleared  away.  For  dining  ought  always  to  represent  a  feast  or  a  festival; 
ceremony  ought  to  be  associated  with  it,  light  and  cheer,  and  the  idea  of  refresh- 
ment. More  than  all  other  places  in  the  home,  I  sometimes  think,  the  dining- 
room  ought  to  be  kept  intact.  But  sometimes  a  dining-room  in  an  apartment  has 
to  be  utilized  for  other  purposes  besides  that  of  dining.  When  that  is  the  case 
call  to  your  aid  infinite  tact.  Never  let  the  sewing  machine,  for  instance,  be 
visible  in  it  for  an  instant.  Conceal  it  with  a  screen  if  it  cannot  be  banLshed 
altogether,  or  3'^our  whole  room  is  destroyed.  If  reading  or  writing  must  go  on  in 
it,  make  a  corner  for  your  books  and  papers — a  northwest  or  a  southeast  corner, 
or  whatever  you  may  want  to  call  it;  only  let  it  be  a  corner  pure  and  simple. 
Never  let  it  become  an  intrusive  feature;  never  let  it  suggest  any  interference  with 
the  rightful  purpose  or  true  use  of  the  room.  It  is  of  vital  moment  that  the 
spinster  in  her  apartment  remember  this. . 

The  uses  of  a  parlor  when  one  has  no  other  reception  room  are  manifold. 
The  same  room  may  have  to  be  used  for  reading  and  writing,  for  the  entertaining 
of  guests,  and  so  much  of  the  family  life  as  a  spinster  is  able  to  enjoy.  If  she  can 
have  a  study  as  well  as  a  parlor  her  problem  is  simplified,  but  a  study  is  hardly 
possible  in  an  ordinary  flat.  The  primal  use  of  a  parlor  is  for  the  welcome  of 
others.  There  ought,  therefore,  to  be  good  cheer  expressed,  comfort  promised, 
repose  suggested  for  the  body  and  rest  for  the  mind.     One  should  always  be  able 


HOMES   FOR   SPINSTERS.  275 

to  get  to  its  central  points  easily,  the  chairs  and  tables  not  standing  in  the  way. 
The  fireside  should  be  one  of  these  points  in  winter,  the  windows  in  summer. 
Your  most  beautiful  and  most  restful  picture  should  hang  over  the  mantel-piece, 
so  that  when  you  lift  your  eyes  from  the  fire  3'ou  always  see  it,  as  when  you  lift 
them  from  flowers  or  the  sea  you  find  the  sky  above  you.  There  should  be  books 
within  easy  reach.  No  home  is  furnished  without  them,  and  no  guest  quite  pre- 
pared for.  Do  not  hang  your  pictures  too  regularly,  yet  preserve  a  certain  balance. 
I,et  your  lamps  be  placed  near  chairs  that  invite  you  at  once  to  a  book.  Let  your 
sofa  be  where  the  glare  from  a  window  does  not  strike  full  upon  the  eyes  of  one 
who  lies  upon  it.  I,et  warmth  and  sunshine  prevail,  and  let  hospitality  be  sug- 
gested, not  prim  and  forbidding  formality.  Study  comfort  and  repose.  Color 
enters  into  a  question  of  comfort  as  much  as  sofa  cushions.  Two  j-ellows, 
one  with  the  pink  tone  predominating  and  one  with  the  green  tone,  will,  when 
brought  together,  be  more  wearisome  to  the  sensitive  nerves  than  a  sofa  without 
springs  to  an  invalid. 

Avoid  the  cheap  heavy  woolen  stuffs  sold  for  curtains.  If  50U  must  get  an 
inexpensive  material  get  something  which  will  wash;  it  at  least  will  suggest 
daintiness.  You  are  apt  to  get  bad  colors  in  cheap  woolens  or  in  so-called  silk 
hangings. 

Another  hint,  apart  from  all  furnishings,  is  applicable  to  the  w^omen  who- 
dwell  in  spinster  homes. 

In  days  gone  by,  before  the  new  woman  appeared  upon  the  scene  of  action, 
girls  were  rigidly  taught  the  good  old-fashioned  principle  of  tidiness.  '  *  Neatness ' ' 
hardly  expresses  my  meaning  as  well  as  does  the  quaint  old  time  word.  To  be 
"  tidy,"  Webster  tells  us,  is  to  be  "  arranged  in  good  order;  neat;  kept  in  proper 
and  becoming  neatness."  Nowadays  girls  are  neat  to  a  certain  extent  and  in  a 
certain  way.  They  bathe  freely  and  wear  clean  clothes,  but  are  they  tidy  ?  Fre- 
quently they  are  not.  Their  hair  is  often  loose  and  prone  to  tumble  down,  their 
gloves  are  sometimes  ripped  at  the  finger-tips,  and  one  or  two  buttons  are  lacking 
from  their  boots.  The  stock-collar  is  often  fastened  on  with  an  ordinary  white 
pin  that  is  very  obvious,  and  the  veil  has  occasionally  a  hole  over  the  nose  or  chin. 
Our  girl  is  charming,  but  is  she  as  careful  as  she  should  be  ? 

The  other  day  I  was  making  a  mornkig  call  at  a  friend's  house,  and  there  met 
another  caller,  a  woman  who  made  a  most  agreeable  impression  upon  me.  She 
was  not  elaborately  dressed,  but  her  black  tailor-made  gown  fitted  her  well,  and 
there  was  not  a  spot  or  a  speck  of  dust  on  it.  I  knew  that  it  had  been  brushed 
carefully  before  she  left  her  room.  Her  linen  collar  and  cuffs  were  snowy  white, 
and  did  not  twist  or  shift  from  their  proper  places.  Her  gloves  did  not  wrinkle 
and  buttoned  smoothly  over  the  wrists;  her  shoes  were  like  the  rest  of  her  attire, 
dainty-;  and  her  bonnet  rested  firmly  and  straight  on  soft  brown  hair  that,  while 


276  HOMES   FOR  SPINSTERS. 

wavy  and  fluffy,  was  neatly  dressed,  and  so  securely  pinned  that  I  fancy  a  high 
wind  would  not  have  caused  it  to  come  down.  A  thin  veil  covered  a  fresh  com- 
plexion and  bright  face.  The  tout  ensemble  gave  one  the  idea  of  daintiness  and 
delicate  finish.  In  speaking  of  this  woman  afterwards  to  a  man  who  knows  her 
I  said: 

* '  There  is  something  about  her  appearance  that  charms  one.  What  is  the 
secret?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  he  said.  "  She  is  a  well-groomed  woman.  There  are  never 
any  rough  or  loose  ends  about  her. ' ' 

"  You  mean  that  she  is  tidy,"  I  said  to  him. 

* '  You  call  it  '  tidy,'  I  say  '  well-groomed. '     We  both  mean  the  same  thing. " 

However  one  may  express  it — in  sporting  terms  or  with  the  old-fashioned 
word — is  the  condition  not  well  worth  striving  for  ?  Nothing  is  so  destructive  to 
illusion,  so  detrimental  to  the  fascination  of  beauty  or  personal  charm  as  the  lack 
of  this  quality. 

The  traditional  spinster  must  have  something  to  love,  a  cat,  a  bird,  a  dog,  in 
her  apartment,  and  so  she  will  not  lack  for  loving  welcome  when  she  comes 
home. 

There  are  no  pets,  on  the  whole,  so  responsive  and  so  satisfactory  as  the 
familiar  house-cat  and  the  dog,  of  whatever  variety  he  may  be.  Long  usage  to  the 
ways  of  civilized  man  has  made  these  creatures  most  friendl)^  and  sympathetic, 
and,  once  admitted  into  the  home  life,  they  fit  into  their  places,  and  become  as 
•essential  as  other  members  of  the  household  to  its  dailj^  round  of  duty  and  its 
measure  of  delight.  The  man  or  woman  who  regards  a  dog  or  cat  with  either 
aversion  or  indifference  can  never  hope  to  understand  the  regard  felt  for  these 
animals  by  their  lovers.  The  dog  is  the  more  trustful  pet,  the  readier  to  take 
good  will  for  granted,  and  the  more  dependent  on  the  companionship  of  man. 
Dogs  there  are  of  high  degree  and  long  descent,  large  and  small,  from  the  Great 
Dane  to  the  toy  terrier;  but  one  thing  they  all  share,  and  that  is  a  fond  clinging 
to  their  master  and  a  liking  for  his  society.  A  dog  is  the  best  of  comrades,  the 
most  constant  of  friends,  and  to  those  who  care  for  him  he  is  the  solace  of  lonely 
hours  and  the  source  of  pride. 

A  cat,  on  the  other  hand,  does  not  yield  affection  by  instinct.  Whatever  may 
have  been  originally  bestowed  on  the  cat  by  his  far-away  savage  ancestors,  the 
tintameable  beasts  of  the  jungle  and  the  den,  he  still  keeps  part  of  the  wild 
creature's  subtlety,  suspicion  and  stealth.  His  ver>'  step  suggests  the  panther's — 
so  soft,  so  padded,  so  sinuous,  so  dexterous. 

For  ages,  too,  cats  have  been  maligned  as  witches,  treated  with  cruelty  by 
thoughtless  boys,  condemned  to  vagrant  wanderings  and  prowlings  by  heedless 
owners,  who  could  go  off  oh  pleasure  trips,  leaving  a  forlorn  and  neglected  pet 


^277) 


278  HOMES   FOR  SPINSTERS. 

behind  them  to  seek  its  meat  where  it  could  find  it,  to  starve,  or  to  prey  vipon  a 
neighbor's  shelves. 

Nothing  on  this  earth  is  more  pitiful  than  a  hungry,  gaunt  and  attenuated 
spectre  of  what  should  be  a  well-fed,  sleek  and  prosperous-looking  pussy. 

.pats  show  the  effect  of  good  treatment  in  their  coats,  which  grow  soft  and 
silky,  in  their  finely  groomed  appearance,  and  in  their  air  of  pride  and  serenity. 
A  cat  should  have  a  good  bed  on  which  to  sleep  at  night;  it  should  have  plenty 
of  food  at  the  right  times,  daintily  served,  and  it  should  never  be  frightened  or 
struck.  Cats  are  intensely  nervous,  and  they  have  long  memories.  A  cat  once 
abiised  does  not  soon  forgive  nor  forget  to  stand  on  guard. 

•^A  dog  should  be  fed  twice  a  day;  not  on  mere  leavings  and  scraps,  but  on 
food  nicely  prepared,  and  containing  some  variety — perhaps  a  cereal,  perhaps  some 
cooked  vegetable  with  portions  of  meat,  and  a  bone  or  two  on  which  the  dog  may 
gnaw.  Give  the  dog  his  meals  on  a  clean  platter,  and  for  both  cat  and  dog  provide 
drinking-water  in  a  convenient  place. 

Quarrelsome  householders  will  have  quarrelsome  pets.  Only  the  loving  soul 
can  have  loving  natures  about  it,  whether  of  the  lower  or  of  the  higher  orders. 
Probably  our  little  dumb  friends  know  far  more  than  we  imagine  of  what  is  going 
on  around  them,  and  understand  our  speech  and  language  in  a  way  which  would 
surprise  us  if  we  were  in  the  habit  of  obser\'ing  them.  Little  Fanchette,  a  spaniel 
brought  from  Paris  to  New  York,  moped  and  pined  with  homesickness,  until  it 
occurred  to  somebody  to  speak  French  to  her,  when  she  speedily  plucked  up  courage 
and  grew  sprightly  again.  Juno,  a  huge  mastiff,  was  given  away  by  her  mistress 
to  a  friend  in  the  same  town.  The  change  of  homes  and  owners  puzzled  the  dog 
at  first,  and  she  could  not  be  reconciled  to  it.  From  the  hour  that  she  compre- 
hended the  transfer  she  treated  her  original  owner  with  the  utmost  indifference, 
verging  on  disdain,  never  responding  to  a  caress,  never  lifting  her  head  when  the 
lady  spoke  to  her.     Juno's  resentment  was  ro^-al  and  unmistakable. 

Bj"  all  means  let  us  treat  our  pets  as  though  they  had  natures  in  some  degree 
akin  to  our  own,  and  then  let  us  watch  and  discover  what  fine  traits  they  show 
when  trained  with  care  and  treated  with  uniform  kindness. 

A  phase  of  our  present  life  which  has  escaped  the  attention  of  some  of  us,  is 
the  desire  for  independence  on  the  part  of  our  girls.  Self-supporting  as  they  often 
are,  and  looking  forward  to  a  career,  they  do  not  wish  to  remain  under  authority, 
and  their  mothers,  dearly  as  they  love  them,  do  not  command  their  entire  obedience, 
as  mothers  once  did,  where  unmarried  daughters  were  concerned. 

"Marriage  gives  a  woman  freedom  from  parental  authority;  gives  her  scope 
and  opportunity,  a  house  tc  manage,  new  interests  to  pursue.  She  finds  her 
development  in  it.  The  single  state  robs  her  of  these  opportunities,  and  she 
misses  her  development,  unless  she  has  work  to  do,  interests,  responsibilities,  and 


FEEDING  THE   PKTS. 


(279) 


28o  RETURNING  SPRING. 

activities  in  which  to  forget  herself.  She  is  often,  in  consequence,  the  most 
uncomfortable,  restless,  irritable,  and  misunderstood  member  of  a  family. 

"  '  Everything  is  done  for  you,'  she  is  told,  '  and  yet  you  are  not  happy.' 
Sometimes  she  hears  she  is  ungrateful,  and  grows  self-conscious  under  an  accusa- 
tion she  does  not  know  how  to  deny. .  Those  who  have  reared  her  have  never 
understood  that  something  besides  that  of  their  own  planting  has  grown  up  in  the 
girl  whom  they  have  watched  and  shielded  for  years.  They  also  fail  to  see  that 
a  full  nature  denied  all  normal  outlets  must  grow  to  be  the  turbulent  nature, 
unless  wisely  guided  in  right  channels.  The  young  daughter  will  not  understand. 
The  mother  must.  She  must  realize  that  self-absorption  and  restlessness  do  not 
necessarily  indicate  an  evil  natiu-e  so  much  as  a  strong  nature  balked  by  being 
denied  opportunity  for  expression. 

"  We  are  apt  to  think  that  until  women,  our  own  especially,  are  invited  to 
express  sentiment  and  affection,  or  until  they  are  presented  with  an  opportunity 
for  the  exercise  of  their  deepest  instincts  and  emotions,  these  instincts  and  emo- 
tions ought  not  to  exist,  forgetting  the  great  spiritual  forces  that  play  into  all 
human  souls,  and  which,  unexpressed  in  one  direction,  must  breed  storm  and 
confusion,  restlessness  and  discontent,  or  break  into  new  outlets  for  themselves. 

' '  Then  why  not  permit  the  daughter  at  home  some  of  the  privileges  and 
opportunities  she  would  have  in  the  house  of  her  husband — a  certain  authority, 
some  one  domain  in  which  she  would  reign  supreme  ?  Why  not  expect  and 
demand  less  from  her  to  you  as  an  individual,  and  give  her  more  in  the  way  of 
those  verj'  opportunities  for  activity  which  you  and  nature  have  been  helping  her 
to  be  ready  for  ? 

"  A  mother,  in  all  her  experience,  never  needs  so  much  unselfishness,  so  much 
wisdom,  knowledge,  and  prudence,  as  when  her  daughters  are  full  grown  and  still 
under  her  control. ' ' 

The  happiest  girls  I  know,  or  some  of  them,  are  those  who  have  combined, 
several  girls  together,  with  an  elderly  or  middle-aged  friend  to  act  as  housekeeper 
and  chaperone,  and  have  made  for  themselves  a  spinster-home,  in  which  they  have 
entire  freedom  to  work  and  rest  as  they  will.  They  go  to  their  own  roof-tree  from 
this  retreat,  with  a  feeling  of  holiday  gladness,  and  are  friends  with  the  dear 
home  people  in  a  new  sense. 


Returning  Spring. 


Says  Carlyle,  '  *  From  a  small  window  one  ma)'^  see  the  infinite, ' '     My  pot  of 
hepaticas  have  shown  me  all  the  handiwork  of  spring. 


A   CHItD'S   SERVICE.  281 

"  The  restitution  of  all  things;"  that  is  nature's  spring  song,  and  no  wonder 
that  it  is  dear  to  man.  All  the  lost  things  torn  from  us  by  autumn  winds  and  frost 
have  come  again;  not  new  things,  but  those  we  loved  last  year.  We  cannot  miss  one 
lovely  line,  nor  fragile  bit  of  color;  the  faint  fragrance  has  not  changed  its  delicate 
refreshment,  but  lures  us  with  the  selfsame  woodland  sweetness.  High  hopes  of 
dearer  things,  lost  to  his  sight,  cheer  man's  heart  as  he  notes  this. 

Happy  are  they  who,  in  the  time  of  nature's  revival,  turn  toward  country 
homes.  Nothing  more  refreshing  comes  into  a  tired  man's  way  than  his  first  visit 
to  his  country  place  after  the  tide  has  turned  and  the  stir  of  spring  is  in  the  air. 
The  newly  upturned  sod  sends  up  an  odor  that  God  surely  meant  should  be  grateful 
to  his  senses;  the  sense  of  preparation,  the  look  of  restoration  are  delightful  to  his 
weary  brain.  If  his  dog  welcomes  him,  and  his  horse  is  in  good  condition,  he 
feels  himself  far  richer  than  he  did  yesterday,  when  he  rushed  from  his  office  to 
his  club.  The  uncovering  of  the  strawberries  and  the  asparagus  is  an  event  of 
importance;  the  violet  frames  are  worth  any  Fifth  avenue  florist's  gorgeous  display ; 
the  hotbeds  are  full  of  promise,  and  a  brood  of  young  chicks,  irrespective  of 
their  strain,  is  full  of  charm. 

But  he  loves  spring  best  who  has  hibernated  in  some  solitary  hillside  farm, 
with  nothing  but  the  daily  routine  of  feeding  his  cattle,  the  arrival  of  the  weekly 
newspaper,  and  the  Saturday  visit  to  the  country  store  to  vary  a  life  in  which  the 
body  ages  from  disuse,  and  the  mind  grows  dull  from  lack  of  contact  with  the 
world.  To  such  a  one  the  sight  of  the  first  bluebird  perched  on  the  top  of  the 
pump,  where  it  has  gone  in  search  of  a  chilly  drink,  is  a  positive  thrill  of  delight. 
Not  long  will  it  be  before  wholesome  activity  and  work  which  is  useful  to  his 
fellowmen  will  be  within  his  reach,  and  the  cattle,  aimlessly  chewing  the  scattered 
cornstalks  in  the  barnyard,  cropping  the  young  grass.  A  man  like  this  may  not, 
with  spiritually  enlightened  eyes,  watch  with  admiring  wonder  the  ephemeral 
beauty  of  the  woods,  coloring  as  their  life-blood  stirs  in  their  hearts,  but  he  is  apt 
to  look  long  and  happily  over  the  scene  that  has  been  so  wearily  asleep,  and  to 
take  off  his  hat  that  the  wind  may  blow  across  his  forehead.  And  his  voice  has  a 
ring  of  good  cheer  as  he  returns  to  the  house  and  calls  out,  "  Mother,  I've  seen  a 
bluebird  !  "  It  always  strikes  me  with  a  pleasant  recognition  of  what  the  husband 
thinks  his  wife's  highest  title  when  he  calls  her  "  Mother." — Evening  Post. 


A  Child's  Service. 


What  if  the  little  Jewish  lad. 

That  summer  day,  had  failed  to  go 

Down  to  the  lake,  because  he  had 
So  small  a  store  of  loaves  to  show  ? 


282  WHEN   SAINT   CHRYSOSTEM    PRAYED. 

"The  press  is  great," — he  might  have  said; 

"  For  food  the  thronging  people  call; 
And  what  were  my  few  loaves  of  bread, — 

My  five  small  loaves  among  them  all  ?  " 

And  back  the  mother's  word  would  come, 
Her  coaxing  hand  upon  his  hair; 

"Yet  go,  for  here  be  food  for  some 
Among  the  hungrj'  children  there." 

If  from  his  home  the  lad  that  day 

His  five  small  loaves  had  failed  to  take, 

Would  Christ  have  wrought — can  any  say  ? — 
That  miracle  beside  the  lake  ? 


When   Saint    Chrysostom    Prayed. 

'Twas  not  enough  to  kneel  in  prayer. 

And  pour  his  very  soul  away 
In  fervid  wrestlings,  night  and  day, 

For  those  who  owned  his  shepherd  care; 
But  faith  and  works  went  hand  in  hand, 

As  test  of  each  petition  made, 
And  saints  were  helped  throughout  the  land 

When  Saint  Chrj-sostom  pra3'ed. 

Within  the  closet  where  he  knelt, 

A  box  of  Bethlehem's  olive  wood — 
"  For  Christ,"  engraved  upon  it — stood; 

And  ever  as  he  daily  felt 
The  pressure  of  the  Church's  need. 

Therein  the  daily  gift  was  laid; 
For  word  had  instant  proof  of  deed 

When  Saint  Chrysostom  prayed. 

Beneath  his  folded  hands  he  placed 
Whatever  gold  was  his;  and  when 

He  travailed  for  the  souls  of  men, 
So  long  by  pagan  rites  debased, 


HEAVEN.  283 


The  more  he  agonized,  the  more 
The  burden  of  his  spirit  weighed; 

And  piece  by  piece  went  all  his  store, 
When  Saint  Chrysostom  prayed. 

O  golden-mouthed,  let  this  thine  alms 

Rouse  us  to  shame,  who  daily  bow 
Within  our  secret  places  now, 

With  otitstretched  yet  with  emptj-  palms! 
We  supplicate  indeed;  but  has 

Our  faith  brought  answering  works  to  aid  ? 
Have  words  by  deeds  been  proven,  as 

When  Saint  Chrysostom  prayed  ? 

— Margaret  I.  Preston. 


Heaven. 

'Tis  a  time  of  war  and  conflict, 

A  time  to  strike  with  might, 
A  time  when  peace  herself  must  arm. 

And  take  the  sword  and  fight. 
In  the  light  of  blazing  fires, 

In  the  sound  of  booming  drums, 
To  her  waning  hour,  with  war  and  woe,, 

The  latest  century  comes. 

Earth,  dyed  in  blood,  and  ghastly 

With  crimes  that  shame  the  sun, 
Looks  up  and  finds  her  sentence 

The  old  imperious  one 
By  the  god  of  battles  written 

In  days  of  God's  right  hand. 
Not  peace,  but  war  is  needed. 

To  save  Jehovah's  land. 

Yet,  sweet  upon  our  discords, 
The  thought  of  heaven  falls. 

Soft  wafts  the  breath  of  heaven 
Down  from  the  jasper  walls; 


284  I   KNEW   THOU    WERT   COMING. 

There  stand  victorious  ever 
The  saints  bej'ond  the  flood, 

There  never  sounds  of  evil 
Or  clash  of  strifes  intrude. 

Sweet  fields  beyond  the  river 
All  dressed  in  living  green. 
Sweet  country  of  the  blessed, 

Where  life  is  all  serene. 
To  that  thrice-joyous  heaven 
.     Our  longing  eyes  are  turned, 
Where  all  earth's  grief  is  ended. 
And  all  earth's  tasks  are  learned. 


I  Knew  Thou  Wert  Coining. 

I  knew  Thou  wert  coming,  O  Lord  Divine, 

I  felt  in  the  sunlight  a  softened  shine, 

And  a  murmur  of  welcome  I  thought  I  heard. 

In  the  ripple  of  brooks  and  the  chirp  of  bird; 

And  the  bursting  buds  and  the  springing  grass 

Seemed  to  be  waiting  to  see  Thee  pass; 

And  the  sky,  and  the  sea,  and  the  throbbing  sod. 

Pulsed  and  thrilled  to  the  touch  of  God. 

I  knew  Thou  wert  coming,  O  Love  Divine, 
To  gather  the  world's  heart  up  to  Thine; 
I  know  the  bonds  of  the  rock-hewn  grave 
Were  riven  that,  living,  Thy  life  might  save. 
But,  blind  and  wayward,  I  could  not  see 
Thou  wert  coming  to  dwell  with  me,  e'en  me; 
And  my  heart,  o'erburdened  with  care  and  sin. 
Had  no  fair  chambers  to  take  Thee  in: 

Not  one  clean  spot  for  Thy  foot  to  tread. 
Not  one  pure  pillow  to  rest  Thy  head ; 
There  was  nothing  to  oifer,  no  bread,  no  wine, 
No  oil  of  joy  in  this  heart  of  mine: 


RISE,    FLOWERS.  285 

And  yet  the  light  of  Thy  kingly  face 

Illumed  for  Th5'self,  a  small,  dark  place, 

And  I  crept  to  the  spot  bj^  Thy  smile  made  sweet, 

And  tears  came  ready  to  wash  Thy  feet. 

Now,  let  me  come  nearer,  O  Lord  Divine, 
Make  in  mj^  soul  for  Thyself  a  shrine; 
Cleanse,  till  the  desolate  place  shall  be 
Fit  for  a  dwelling,  dear  Lord,  for  Thee. 
Rear,  if  Thou  wilt,  a  throne  in  my  breast, 
Reign — I  will  worship  and  serve  my  guest. 
While  Thou  art  in  me — and  in  Thee  I  abide — 
No  end  can  come  to  the  Easter  tide. 

— Mary  Lowe  Dickinson, 


Rise,  Flowers, 

Rise,  flowers,  arise, 

Out  of  your  weary  prison  ! 
Open  your  joyful  ej'es, 

He  hath  arisen  ! 

Lilies  that  He  called  fair 
Come  in  your  virgin  glory; 

Your  stainless  lips  prepare 
To  sing  His  story. 

Rose  that  have  borne  His  name, 
On  hills  of  Sharon  springing, 

Open  your  heart  of  flame  ! 
Arise  with  singing  ! 

Flower  with  the  passion-cross 
That  quivers  on  3-our  bosom, 

Tell  of  our  Lenten  loss  ! 
Arise  and  blossom  ! 

All  in  the  dust  of  earth. 
Hear  in  your  dreaming  ! 

Shout  for  the  glad  new  birlh 
Easter  is  beaming. 


286  OVERCOMETH. 

Hear  ye  its  angel  choir 
Exulting  o'er  us; 

Creatures  of  earth,  aspire  ! 
Join  the  loud  chorus  ! 


Rise,  every  mortal  voice,  • 

Praise  Him  with  singing, 
Sea,  earth  and  sky  rejoice; 

Set  joy-bells  ringing. 

Death  is  forever  dead, 

Broken  its  prison; 
Lo  !  from  the  tomb  our  Head, 

Christ  hath  arisen  ! 

— J^ose  Terry  Cooke. 


Overcometh. 

To  him  that  overcometh  ! 

O  word  divinely  strong, 
The  victor's  palm,  the  fadeless  wreath, 

The  grand  immortal  song. 
And  his  the  hidden  manna, 

And  his  the  polished  stone. 
Within  whose  whiteness  shines  the  name 

Revealed  to  him  alone. 

To  him  that  overcometh — 

Ah,  what  of  bitter  strife 
Before  he  win  the  battle's  gage, 

And  snatch  the  crown  of  life  ! 
"What  whirl  of  crossing  weapons. 

What  gleam  of  flashing  eyes, 
What  stern  debate  with  haughty  foes, 

Must  be  before  the  prize  ! 

To  him  that  overcometh 

Shall  trials  aye  befall. 
The  world,  the  flesh,  the  devil, 

He  needs  must  face  them  all. 


GOD    IS   GOOD  287 

• 

Sweet  sirens  of  temptation 

May  lure  with  silvern  strain, 
And  cope  he  must  with  subtle  foes,  • 

And  blanch  'neath  fiery  pain. 

To  him  that  overcometh 

A  mighty  help  is  pledged; 
He  wields  a  sword  of  purest  mould 

By  use  of  cycles  edged. 
And  prophets  and  confessors, 

A  matchless,  valiant  band. 
Have  vanquished  earth  and  stormed  the  skies. 

With  that  triumphant  brand. 

To  him  that  overcometh  — 

O  promise  dearest  dear! 
The  lyOrd  Himself  who  died  for  him 

Will  evermore  be  near. 
Here,  dust  upon  his  garments, 

There,  robes  that  royal  be; 
For,  "  On  my  throne,"  the  King  hath  said, 

"  Mine  own  shall  sit  with  me." 

To  him  that  overcometh — 

O  word  divinely  strong  ! 
It  weaves  itself  through  weary  hours 

Like  some  rejoicing  song. 
For  him  the  hidden  manna. 

And  his  the  name  unknown, 
Which  Christ  the  Lord  one  day  of  days 

Will  tell  to  him  alone. 


.  God  Is  Good. 

The  days  are  so  full  of  pleasure. 
The  nights  so  bright  with  cheer, 

Thou  hast  heaped  so  high  the  measure 
Of  life  in  the  passing  year, 


288  GOD    IS   GOOD. 

That,  Master  and  Lord,  we  bless  Thee, 
And  bring  Thee  thankful  praise; 

Our  reverent  lips  address  Thee 
At  this  parting  of  the  ways- 

Many  a  time,  and  often, 

Thou  hast  pardoned  our  foolish  pride, 
Hast  tarried  our  griefs  to  soften, 

Hast  our  selfish  prayers  denied. 
The  kinsman  and  the  stranger 

Alike  have  known  Thy  grace. 
And  the  sword  of  the  unseen  danger 

Has  fled  before  Thy  face. 

Many  a  time  Thy  vision, 

Clear  in  the  light  of  love. 
Hath  aided  our  slow  decision. 

And  pointed  our  eyes  above. 
Thy  hand  hath  poured  the  chalice 

And  broken  the  daily  bread, 
Till  the  hut  has  been  as  the  palace. 

And  as  princes  we  have  fed. 

From  the  gins  and  traps  of  error 

Thou  hast  turned  our  feet  away, — 
Hast  saved  our  hearts  from  the  terror 

Of  the  uubegotten  day. 
Our  lot  in  Thy  land  has  ever 

In  fairest  ground  been  cast ; 
Thou  hast  left  us  lonely  never. 

Though  our  dear  ones  hence  have  passed. 

For  into  Thine  own  sweet  heaven. 

Home  of  their  souls  and  ours. 
They  have  entered,  sin-forgiven. 

To  praise  with  fuller  powers; 
And  therefore  now  we  praise  Thee, 

With  all  who  have  gone  before, 
The  endless  hymn  we  raise  Thee, 

And  bless  Thee,  and  adore. 


GOD   IS   GOOD. 


289 


And  still  Thou  art  always  with  us, 

Even  unto  the  end; 
Thyself,  our  strength,  art  with  us, 

Ever  our  guide  and  friend. 
How  can  the  life  be  dreary 

In  the  sun  of  Thy  ceaseless  care. 
Or  the  path  be  aught  but  cheery. 

When  Thou  art  everywhere  ? 


19 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
What  Has  Become  of  the  Old  Ladies  ? 

WAS  reading  that  sweet  idyl  of  homely  life,  "  Margaret  Ogilvy," 
this  morning,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "  What  has  become  of  the 
dainty  old  ladies  we  used  to  meet?" 

My  mother  never  varied  the  form  of  her  dress  for  fort)^  years. 
She  was  comparatively  a  young  woman  when  she  adopted  gray 
and  black  dresses,  never  deviating  from  those  quiet  and  sombre 
colors.  She  was  an  old  and  venerable  woman  when  she  fell  asleep 
and  put  on  garments  of  immortality.  To  the  last  she  wore  a  soft  fleecy 
cap,  a  muslin  kerchief  about  her  neck  crossed  in  front,  a  gown  with  the  skirt 
gathered  in  fullness  and  fastened  to  the  waist,  with  no  flounces  or  furbelows.  Other 
women  of  her  period  dressed  as  she  did.  But  to-day  the  aged  matron  draws  her 
thinning  locks  into  a  tight  little  knot  at  the  back  of  her  head,  or  wears  false  hair, 
with  never  a  softening  cap  about  her  sweet  and  faded  face.  She  is  dressed  as 
her  juniors  are,  and  not  to  her  advantage. 

This  is  how  Margaret  Ogilvy  was  dressed.  It  is  early  in  the  morning,  mind, 
and  she  has  just  come  out  of  her  room. 

"  She  is  up  now  and  dressed  in  her  thick  marooa  wrapper.  Over  her  shoul- 
ders is  a  shawl,  and  on  her  head  a  mutch.  Oh,  that  I  could  sing  the  praise  of 
that  white  mutch  (and  the  dirge  of  the  elaborate  black  cap),  from  the  day  when 
she  called  witchcraft  to  her  aid  and  made  it  out  of  suowflakes,  and  the  dear  worn 
hands  that  washed  it  tenderly  in  a  basin,  and  the  starching  of  it,  and  the  finger- 
iron  for  its  exquisite  frills  that  looked  like  curls  of  sugar,  and  the  sweet  bands 
with  which  it  tied  beneath  the  chin.  The  honored  snowy  mutch,  how  I  love  to 
see  it  smiling  to  me  from  the  doors  and  windows  of  the  poor;  it  is  always  smiling, 
sometimes  may  be  a  wavering  wistful  smile  as  if  a  snowdrop  or  a  teardrop  lay 
hidden  among  the  frills.  My  mother  begins  the  daj'  with  her  New  Testament  in 
her  hands,  an  old  volume  with  its  loose  pages  beautifully  refixed,  and  its  covers 
sewn  and  resewn  by  her,  so  that  you  would  say  it  can  never  fall  to  pieces.  Other 
books  she  read  in  the  ordinary  manner,  but  this  one  differently,  her  lips  moving 
with  each  word  as  if  she  were  reading  aloud  and  her  face  very  solemn.  The 
Testament  lies  open  on  her  lap,  long  after  she  has  ceased  to  read,  and  the  expression 
of  her  face  has  not  changed." 

(290) 


POLITENESS   IN   CHII^DREN.  291 

It  seems  to  me  that  nobody  who  has  not  had  that  kind  of  a  dear  old  saintly- 
mother,  the  presence  as  of  an  angel  ever  in  the  house,  can  win  to  heaven  as  . 
easily,  as  those  whose  mothers  were  like  mine,  and  like  Margaret  Ogilvy. 
Mothers,  dear  mothers,  do  your  children  see  5'-ou  reading  the  Bible  and  brooding 
over  its  tender  and  rich  promises  ?  Mothers,  dear  mothers,  are  you  as  simple  and 
true  and  sincere,  and  God-fearing  as  mothers  ought  to  be  ? 


Politeness  in  Children. 

A  mother  writing  \.\\  Harper  s  Bazar  ^rQ.iz.c&^  her  "talk"  under  the  above 
heading  by  telling  of  reading,  not  long  ago,  of  a  discouraged  and  despairing 
mother  who  said  to  her  children,  "  You  ain't  got  no  manners,  and  I  declare  I 
can't  beat  none  into  you." 

Now,  the  course  pursued  by  this  mother  was  not  more  unwise,  and  but  little 
more  vulgar,  than  that  pursued  by  some  parents  in  the  higher  walks  of  life  in  their 
attempts  to  teach  their  children  to  be  polite.  As  politeness  is  the  expression  of 
kindness  and  good  will,  it  cannot  be  whipped  nor  scolded  into  children.  It  cannot 
be  put  on  or  off  at  will,  like  a  garment.  It  must  be  largely  the  result  of  example 
in  the  case  of  children.  The  imitative  faculty  is  strong  in  a  child,  and,  if  father 
and  mother  are  habitually  polite  to  each  other  and  to  every  one  else,  the  child  will 
imitate  this  beautiful  trait  and  be  polite  also. 

The  writer  recalls  without  pleasure  a  visit  in  a  home  in  which  thfe  mother  very 
properly  classed  good  manners  among  the  cardinal  virtues  of  life,  and  she  was 
determined  that  her  children  should  be  ' '  little  ladies  and  gentlemen. ' '  Her  meth- 
ods of  achieving  this  result  were  astonishing,  in  view  of  her  intelligence  and  of  her 
position  in  life.  No  sooner  were  we  seated  at  the  dinner  table  than  she  began  to 
instruct  the  children  in  this  wise: 

"  Edith,  sit  up  straight.  It  is  vulgar  to  lounge  at  the  table,  above  all  places. 
Harry,  take  your  elbows  from  the  table.  How  often  have  I  told  j^ou  that  it  was 
rude  to  put  your  elbows  on  the  table  ?  Is  it  possible,  Harold,  that  you  are  eating 
mashed  potatoes  with  a  spoon  ?  I  have  told  you  over  and  over  again  just  what  was 
the  proper  use  of  the  spoon  at  the  table. ' ' 

In  the  parlor  it  was:      "  Edith,  sit  erect!     Harry,  don't  pass  in  front  of  Mr. 

H without  an  apology!     Harold,  you  forgot  to  say  '  Thank  you.'      Mamma 

wants  her  little  boys  and  girls  to  be  polite. ' ' 

Now  we  are  all  more  or  less  familiar  with  this  painful  method  of  instructing 
children  in  the  art  of  politeness.  It  is  possible  that  it  was  the  misfortune  of  some 
readers  of  this  to  have  received  this  sort  of  instruction  in  the  days  of  their  own 
childhood.     If  so,  they  can  testify  to  the  sense  of  humiliation  and  anger  that  filled 


POLITENESS   IN   CHILDREN. 


(292) 


POLITENESS    IN   CHILDREN.  293 

their  childish  breasts  when  the  attention  of  strangers  was  directed  to  them.  They 
felt  shy,  awkward,  and  painfully  self-conscious  in  the  presence  of  visitors,  and  the 
arrival  of  guests  was  looked  forward  to  with  fear  and  dread,  because  it  meant  pub- 
lic exposure  of  the  child's  defects. 

This  method  would  imply  that  good  breeding  was  confined  altogether  to  the 
external  things  of  life,  and  that  if  children  ate  properly  and  gave  proper  replies 
when  spoken  to,  and  bowed  at  the  right  time,  and  in  the  right  way  they  had 
achieved  the  highest  forms  of  politeness. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher  said  that  ' '  politeness  is  a  religious  duty,  and  should  be 
a  part  of  religious  training. ' '  The  law  of  politeness  applies  to  men  and  women 
quite  as  much  as  to  children;  and  if  courtesy  and  kindness  and  sweetness  are  the 
natural  expression  and  attitude  of  the  parents,  these  graces  will  naturally  manifest 
themselves  in  the  child. 

One  evening  I  happened  to  enter  a  room  where  several  young  people,  with 
books  and  work,  were  sitting  around  the  lamp.  The  young  man  with  the  lexicon 
and  the  grammar  on  the  table  before  him,  was  the  busiest  of  the  group,  but  he 
instantly  arose  and  remained  standing  until  I  had  taken  my  seat. 

The  little  action  was  automatic;  the  habit  of  this  family  is  to  practice  small 
courtesies,  and  the  boys  have  been  trained  from  childhood  to  pay  deference  to  a 
woman.  They  always  rise  whenever  a  lady,  their  mother,  sister,  friend  or  the 
guest  of  the  house,  comes  into  the  room  where  they  are  at  work;  they  place  chairs 
gallantly  and  gracefully  for  ladies  at  the  dinner  table;  and  takeoflf  their  hats  when 
they  meet  their  mother  on  the  street,  and  never  kiss  her  with  a  hat  on;  in  saying 
good  morning  or  good  evening  to  her,  it  is  hat  in  hand.  Her  bundles  are  carried, 
her  way  is  made  easy,  a  beautiful  politeness  waits  for  her  word  in  the  domestic 
discussion,  and  refrains  from  interrupting  her  even  in  the  most  heated  argument. 

Neither  mother  nor  sister  goes  out  after  dark  without  an  escort.  One  of  the 
bo3'S  can  always  go  out  of  his  way,  or  find  it  in  his  way,  to  see  her  safely  to  a 
friend's  door,  or  to  the  meeting  which  she  wishes  to  attend.  Most  winning  and 
sweet  is  the  air  of  good  breeding  which  these  5'oung  men  have  acquired,  which 
they  wear  with  an  unconscious  grace. 

Equally  charming  are  the  girls  in  the  home  I  speak  of;  gentle,  soft-spoken, 
appreciative,  considerate,  reverential.  To  old  people  they  are  tender,  to  children 
kind,  to  each  other  lovely. 

One  cannot  too  sedulously  look  after  the  small  courtesies  in  one's  conduct, 
and,  if  one  be  charged  with  the  management  of  the  household,  in  the  accustomed 
ways  of  the  family.  Habits  count  for  everything  here,  and  example  is  better 
than  precept. 

Forty  3'ears  ago  all  small  people  were  carefully  instructed  in  the  formalities 
of  life,    and  one  of  the  things  especially  insisted  upon  was  that    they  should 


294  RECIPROCITY. 

invariabh',  in  addressing  their  elders,  sa3'  "  Yes,  ma'am,"  "  No,  ma'am,"  "Yes 
sir,"  and  "No,  sir." 

A  well-bred  child  in  a  later  period  than  that  always  rose  when  older  persons 
entered  the  room ,  and  remained  standing  till  told  to  take  a  seat.  It  is  observed 
by  Augustus  Hare  in  his  lately  published  autobiography  that  his  mother  in  her 
girlhood  not  only  stood  when  in  the  room  with  her  father,  but  even  accorded  that 
honor  to  his  empty  chair  if  she  were  in  the  room  with  it.  In  our  period  a  well- 
trained  boy  rises  when  his  mother  or  other  woman  enters  a  room,  and  stands  till 
she  is  seated.  A  little  girl,  too,  is  taught  to  be  soft  of  voice  and  gentle  in  move- 
ment, and  to  slip  a  cushion  behind  the  back  of  a  friend,  to  urge  on  a  guest  the 
most  comfortable  seat,  to  adjust  screens  against  window  glare  and  fire-light,  and 
to  avoid  interruption  and  contradiction.  But  "  sir  "  and  "  ma'am  "  are  not  now 
in  vogue  for  children,  being  considered  the  appropriate  form  of  address  for  servants 
and  for  those  of  inferior  position.  Children  are  in  no  sense  inferiors  in  their 
homes.  They  are  socially  on  the  same  plane  with  their  parents,  and  it  is  fitting  that 
they  should  be  treated  with  courtesy  as  well  as  practice  it. 

A  child  should  be  taught  to  say  "Yes,  mother,"  "  Yes,  father,"  "  Yes,  Mrs. 
Smith,"  "No,  Mr.  Jones."  It  is  always  elegant  to  repeat  the  name  of  the 
person  you  address.  "  Mother"  and  "  father  "  are  preferred  at  present  to  anj- 
affectionate  diminutive  for  the  speech  of  even  little  children,  and  "mamma" 
and  "  papa  "  (not  momma  and  poppa)  are  in  the  second  place  in  favor.  Singu- 
larly, "daddy"  and  "mammy"  have  just  now  established  their  claims  to  be 
,heard  in  the  drawing-room,  though  of  old  the  laborer's  cottage  was  their  accus- 
tomed place. 

To  train  a  child  in  the  conventionalities  of  his  own  generation  is  certainly 
advisable.  Only  by  the  automatic  practice  of  every-day  forms  during  the  years 
of  childhood  can  man  or  woman  hope  for  the  unconscious  ease  which  in  maturity 
is  the  first  flower  of  good  manners. 


Reciprocity. 

Two  ladies  settled  themselves  comfortably  at  a  small  restaurant  table  and 
prepared  to  enjo}'  their  lunch  together. 

"It  is  always  a  treat  to  lunch  with  you,  Louise,"  the  older  woman  said, 
"  because  you  are  sure  to  be  here  on  time,  and  j-ou  never  seem  tired  to  death, 
even  after  a  morning  of  shopping." 

"  But  I'm  tired  to  death  this  time,"  Louise  replied,  "  shopping  isn't  a  cir- 
cumstance to  servant  hunting." 

"You  don't  mean  that  Maggie  is  leaving?"  Mrs.  Rust  asked,  sympa- 
theticall}'. 


RECIPROCITY.  295 

"  Yes,  that  is  exactly  what  I  do  mean.  After  getting  me  to  raise  her 
wages  twice,  give  up  my  spare  room  to  her,  favor  her  in  every  way,  and 
allow  her  a  week's  vacation,  she  had  the  ingratitude  to  tell  me  this  morning 
that  my  work  was  wearing  her  all  out,  and  she  must  go  without  even  a  day's 
notice. ' ' 

"How  many  does  this  make  since  you  were  married?"  Mrs.  Rust  asked, 
with  the  familiarity  which  relationship  sanctions. 

"Seven,  I  believe,"  Louise  answered,  smiling,  "and  I  have  only  been 
married  two  years.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me,  aunt,  how  you  keep  your 
girls  until  they  marry  or  die." 

"By  putting  myself  in  their  place,"  Mrs.  Rust  replied.  "I  don't  mean 
that  I  do  their  work  for  them,  but  I  always  plan  to  make  work  light  on  their 
hard  days,  and  to  allow  them  some  time  for  themselves,  for  only  a  machine 
can  keep  on  working  with  no  time  for  rest." 

' '  I  fairly  dread  making  another  round  of  the  intelligence  offices, ' '  the 
younger  woman  said.  "  I  am  sure  they  all  know  me  and  think  me  a  perfect  shrew 
to  change  girls  so  often. ' ' 

"They  don't  know  me,"  Mrs.  Rust  said,  good  naturedlj^,  "and  if  you  are 
willing  to  exchange  work  with  me  I  will  spend  an  hour  this  afternoon  in  getting 
you  a  girl,  and  you  in  return  can  take  this  memorandum  to  the  stationer's  forme; 
my  visiting  cards  are  all  out,  and  I  haven't  paper  enough  left  to  write  a  letter." 

The  two  friends  separated,  agreeing  to  meet  later  in  the  afternoon,  and  each 
started  out  on  her  self-imposed  mission. 

Mrs.  Rust  reached  the  nearest  intelligence  office  a  few  minutes  before  one 
o'clock,  and  finding  the  attendant  gone  she  began  to  question  a  tidy  looking  girl 
who  was  the  only  other  occupant  of  the  room. 

"Are  you  looking  for  a  place  ?"  Mrs.  Rust  startled  her  by  asking. 

"  Indeed,  I  am  that,  ma'am,"  the  girl  answered  respectfull3\ 

"  Where  have  you  been  working,  and  why  do  you  leave?"  Mrs.  Rust  asked 
kindly. 

"Well,  ma'am,  it's  the  truth  I'm  telling  ye.  I'm  leaving  because  it's  not 
flesh  and  blood  at  all  that  they  think  I'm  made  of,  but  they  kape  me  going  night 
and  day  till  the  life's  about  wore  out  av  me." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  a  large  family  where  you  have  been  working,"  Mrs.  Rust  said, 
after  a  little  pause. 

"Only  three  av  'em,  ma'am,  but  one's  a  baby  and  no  nursemaid  for  him 
aither,  and  what  with  nmnin'  afther  him  by  day  and  walkin'  the  flure  wid  him 
by  night,  besides  the  scrubbin',  and  the  cookin',  the  washin'  and  the  ironin'  it's 
about  dead  I  am  entirely,  so  I  give  my  notice  this  marnin'  and  am  afther  findin' 
a  new  place  where  the  wurruk's  aisier. " 


296  RECIPROCITY. 

"  Can  you  cook?"  Mrs.  Rust  asked,  wishing  to  change  the  subject. 

' '  Ye  may  well  say  that  I  can  cook, "  answered  the  girl,  "  that  is  if  I  have  the 
likes  av  anything  to  cook  wid,  but  Mrs.  Eastman  wud  expict  ye  to  get  a  male  out 
av  the  boords  av  the  refrigerator,  and  a  good  male  too,  and  they's  not  a  girl  living 
cud  do  that,  ma'am." 

"  Mrs.  Eastman" — could  it  be  that  this  was  Louise's  girl,  Maggie,  who  had 
given  her  notice  this  morning  ? 

"What  did  you  say  is  your  name?"  said  Mrs.  Rust,  who  in  spite  of  her 
amusement  could  not  help  feeling  a  good  deal  of  sympathy  for  the  young  girl. 

"Maggie  Mclycan  is  my  name,  ma'am,  and  I  am  sure  I  cud  suit  a  nice, 
motherly -lookin'  woman  like  yourself.  Thim  young  ones  ixpect  too  much  intirely; 
they  think  one  girl  can  do  the  worruk  of  three. ' ' 

"  If  Mrs.  Eastman  would  be  willing  to  get  a  nursemaid  for  the  baby,  and  to 
send  a  part  of  the  washing  out,  and  if  she  would  be  more  careful  to  provide  sup- 
plies for  the  kitchen  would  you  be  willing  to  stay  with  her  ?' '  Mrs.  Rust  asked  the 
astonished  girl. 

"That  I  would,  ma'am,  and  for  a  dollar  a  wake  less,  for  it  don't  pay  to  be 
killin'  yourself  for  big  wages,"  said  Maggie. 

Imagine  if  you  can  the  feelings  of  Mrs.  Eastman  when  Mrs.  Rust  told  her 
the  result  of  the  search  for  a  servant. 

' '  Of  course  Harry  will  grumble  a  little  over  the  extra  expense  of  another 
maid  and  of  laundry  bills,"  Louise  said,  after  hearing  her  aunt's  plan,  "  but  if 
we  must  we  must,  and  really  Maggie  is  a  fine  cook  and  capable  waitress.  But  it 
is  we  mistresses  who  are  the  real  servants  nowadays. ' ' 


Thank  God  every  morning  that  you  have  something  to  do  that  day,  which 
must  be  done  whether  you  like  it  or  not.  Being  forced  to  work  and  to  do  your 
best  will  breed  in  you  a  hundred  virtues  which  the  idle  never  know. — Charles 
Kingsley. 


It  was  Napoleon's  custom,  even  when  emperor  of  France,  to  inquire  the  price 
of  every  article  used  for  his  household,  and  to  make  accurate  calculations  with 
regard  to  the  necessary  quantity  to  be  consumed.  It  may  be  said  that  this  was 
royal  meanness;  nevertheless  it  prevented  fraud  and  dishonesty.  Many  think  it  a 
mark  of  gentility,  as  well  as  of  generosity,  to  be  regardless  of  economy.  They  think 
that  spending  money  with  reckless  freedom  proves  that  they  have  always  been 
accustomed  to  wealth.  It  is  proverbial,  that  the  sons  of  misers  are  spendthrifts, 
and  men  who  have  acquired  wealth  suddenly  generally  spend   it  rapidly;   while 


PRACTICING   ECONOMY.  297 

they  who  have  lived  year  after  year  in  the  same  respectable  style,  usually  impart 
to  their  children  their  own  habits  of  regular  systematic  economy.  It  is  said  with 
much  truth,  that  the  Americans  are  not  an  economical  people.  Money-making- 
and  money-loving  even  to  a  universal  monomania,  that  which  is  acquired  with 
such  mighty  effort  they  spend  with  lavish  profusion.  We  know  nothing  about 
economy  as  practiced  in  Europe,  by  men  of  high-sounding  titles,  that  would 
delight  ears  democratic.  The  Frenchman's  invariable  practice  of  taking  up  his 
two  or  three  remaining  bits  of  sugar,  wrapping  them  in  paper  and  carrying  them 
from  the  cafe  in  his  pocket,  is  only  one  example  of  the  minuteness  of  their 
economy.  The  French  women  are  wonderfully  "good  managers;"  the  care  they 
take  of  their  furniture  and  wardrobes  can  scarcely  be  imagined,  even  by  a  notable 
Yankee  woman.  An  excessive  love  of  display,  and  the  tormenting  desire  to  rival 
European  luxury  and  elegance,  have  brought  already  so  much  misery  upon  our 
country,  that  it  is  high  time  that  American  women  should  inquire  how  far  the 
blame  comes  deservedly  upon  them;  and  what  measures  they  must  pursue  to  avoid 
such  ruinous  extravagance. 

Having  learnt  the  prices  of  articles  of  home  consumption,  and  the  quantity 
necessary  for  an  ample  supply,  you  may  be  able  to  regulate  your  expenses.  You 
will  know  how  your  table  should  be  furnished  on  ordinary  and  extraordinary 
occasions,  avoiding  the  extremes  of  niggardly  frugality  and  wasteful  superfluity. 
You  will  find  that  a  skillful  manager  purchases  most  articles  by  large  quantities, 
as  they  are  thus  reduced  in  price;  besides,  it  is  a  saving  of  time. 

The  better  to  understand  what  to  order  for  the  table,  acquire  some  insight  ta 
the  mysteries  of  the  culinary  department.  If  your  delicate  fingers  have  hitherto 
only  been  familiar  with  the  piano  and  harp,  embroidery  and  letter-paper,  can  you 
bring  them  into  contact  with  vulgar  butter  and  sugar,  eggs  and  flour?  Horrible! 
Yet  you  may  go  to  the  far  West  and  be  without  "  helps,"  as  the  Trollopes,  etc., 
aver  that  we  call  servants:  or,  in  town,  they  may  leave  without  "  giving  warning." 
And  it  should  ever  be  remembered,  that  the  varying  tide  of  fortune  may  leave 
many  who  now  ride  triumphantly  at  the  top  of  the  wave  upon  a  barren  strand. 

The  American  ladies  of  lang-syne  were  exceedingly  notable;  their  pride  in 
pastry,  puddings,  pickles,  preserves,  and  the  rest  of  the  category,  was  certainly 
mpre  palatable  than  the  boasted  ignorance  of  their  degenerate  daughters. 


How  man}-  lessons  of  faith  and  beauty  we  should  lose  if  there  were  no  winter 
in  our  year!  Sometimes  in  following  up  a  watercourse  among  our  hills,  in  the 
early  spring,  one  comes  to  a  weird  and  desolate  place,  where  one  huge  wild  grape- 
vine has  wreathed  its  ragged  arms  around  a  whole  thicket  and  brought  it  to  the 


298  PRACTICING   ECONOMY. 

ground, — swarming  to  the  tops  of  hemlocks,  clenching  a  dozen  young  maples  at 
once  and  tugging  them  downward,  stretching  its  wizard  black  length  across  the 
underbrush,  into  the  earth  and  out  again,  wrenching  up  great  stones  in  its  blind, 
aimless  struggle.  What  a  piece  of  chaos  is  this!  Yet  come  here  again,  two 
months  hence,  and  3'ou  shall  find  all  this  desolation  clothed  with  beauty  and  with 
fragrance,  one  vast  bower  of  soft  green  leaves  and  graceful  tendrils,  while  summer 
birds  chirp  and  flutter  amid  these  sunny  arches  all  the  livelong  day. 


Every  one  knows  that  there  is  a  certain  magnetic  power  in  courage,  apart 
from  all  phj'sical  strength.  In  a  family  of  lone  women,  there  is  usually  some  one 
whose  presence  is  held  to  confer  safety  on  the  house:  she  may  be  a  delicate  invalid, 
but  she  is  not  afraid.  The  same  quality  explains  the  difference  in  the  demeanor 
of  different  companies  of  men  and  women,  in  great  emergencies  of  danger.  Read 
one  narrative  of  shipwreck,  and  human  nature  seems  all  sublime;  read  another, 
and,  under  circumstances  equally  desperate,  it  appears  base,  selfish,  groveling. 
The  difference  lies  simply  in  the  influence  of  a  few  leading  spirits.  Ordinarily,  as 
is  the  captain,  so  are  the  officers,  so  are  the  passengers,  so  are  the  sailors.  Bona- 
parte said,  that  at  the  beginning  of  almost  every  battle  there  was  a  moment  when 
the  bravest  troops  were  liable  to  sudden  panic;  let  the  personal  control  of  the 
general  once  lead  them  past  that,  and  the  field  was  half  won. 


This  influence  of  the  social  transition  bears  upon  all  women ;  there  is  another 
which  especially  touches  wives  and  mothers.  In  European  countries,  the  aim  at 
anything  like  gentility  implies  keeping  one  or  more  domestics  to  perform  house- 
hold labors;  but  in  our  United  States  every  family  aims  at  gentility,  while  not  one 
in  five  keeps  a  domestic.  The  aim  is  not  a  foolish  one,  though  follies  may 
accompany  it, — for  the  average  ambition  of  our  people  includes  a  certain 
amount  of  refined  cultivation; — it  is  only  that  the  process  is  exhausting.  Every 
woman  must  have  a  best-parlor  with  fine  furniture  and  a  photograph  b;x)k;  she 
must  have  a  piano,  or  some  cheaper  substitute;  her  little  girls  must  have  embroid- 
ered skirts  and  much  mathematical  knowledge;  her  husband  must  have  two  or 
even  three,  hot  meals  every  day  of  his  life;  and  3^et  her  house  must  be  in  perfect 
order  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  she  prepared  to  go  out  and  pay  calls,  with  a  black 
silk  dress  and  a  card-case.  In  the  evening  she  will  go  to  a  concert  or  a  lecture, 
and  then,  at  the  end  of  all,  she  will  very  possibly  sit  up  after  midnight  with  her 
sewing  machine,  doing  extra  shop-work  to  pay  for  little  Ella's  music  lessons.  All 
this  every  "capable"  American  woman  will  do,  or  die.  She  does  it,  and  dies; 
and  then  we  are  astonished  that  her  vital  energy  gives  out  sooner  than  that  of  an 


THE    PLEASANT   WORLD    OF   BOOKS.  299 

Irishwoman   in   a  shanty,  with  no   ambition   on  earth  bnt  to  supply  her  young 
Patricks  with  adequate  potatoes. 

Now  it  is  useless  to  attempt  to  set  back  the  great  social  flood.  The  Ameri- 
can housekeeper  will  never  be  killed  by  idleness,  at  any  rate;  and  if  she  is  exposed 
to  the  opposite  danger,  we  must  fit  her  for  it,  that  is  all. 


The  Pleasant  World  of  Books. 

There  are  those  who  find  their  happiness  in  strolling  near  and  far, 

As  if  perchance  their  birth  had  been  beneath  some  errant  star. 

The  trackless  desert  beckons  them,  they  scale  the  mountain  peak. 

And  ever  just  bej'ond  them  see  some  gladness  coy  to  seek. 

For  me,  I  sit  beside  my  fire,  and  with  benignant  looks 

From  dear  familiar  shelves  they  smile — my  pleasant  fi-iends,  the  books. 

A  world  of  sweetest  company,  these  well  beloved  ones  wait 
For  any  mood,  for  any  hour.     They  keep  a  courteous  state. 
Serene  and  unperturbed  amid  the  ruffles  of  my  day. 
They  are  the  bread  my  spirit  craves.     They  bless  my  toiling  way. 

A  pleasant  world  is  theirs,  wherein,  though  battles  wax  and  wane, 
There  rolls  the  sound  of  triumph  and  there  dwells  surcease  of  pain, 
On  pages  sparkling  as  the  dawn  forever  breathes  and  glows 
Through  ages  red  with  patriot  blood,  white  freedom's  stainless  rose. 

In  this  fair  world  of  calmest  skies  I  meet  the  martyr's  palm. 

There  float  to  it  dear  melodies  from  coasts  of  heavenlj'  balm. 

All  comfort  here,  all  strength,  all  faith,  all  bloom  of  wisdom  lives. 

And  be  the  day's  need  what  it  may,  some  boon  this  wide  world  gives. 

The  freedom  of  the  city,  where  one  walks  in  crowds  alone. 
The  silence  of  the  upland,  where  one  climbs  anear  the  throne, 
The  blitheness  of  the  morning  and  the  solemn  hush  of  night, 
Are  in  this  pleasant  world  of  books  for  one  who  reads  aright. 

Here,  pure  and  sharp  the  pictured  spire  its  cleaving  point  uplifts. 
There,  swept  by  stormy  winds  of  fate,  time's  sands  are  tossed  in  drifts. 
And  I  who  sit  beside  the  fire  am  heir  of  time  and  sense. 
My  book  to  me  the  angel  of  God's  sleepless  providence. 


300  WHY? 

Who  will  may  choose  to  wander  far  over  sea  and  land. 

For  me  the  table  and  the  lamp  extend  a  friendlier  hand, 

And  I  am  blessed  beyond  compare  while  with  benignant  looks 

From  home's  familiar  shelves  they  smile — my  pleasant  world  of  books. 


Why? 

But  why  do  I  keep  Thanksgiving, 

Did  I  hear  you  aright,  my  dear  ? 
Why  ?     When  I'm  all  alone  in  life, 

Not  a  chick  nor  a  child  to  be  near, 
John's  folks  all  away  in  the  West, 

Lucy  across  the  sea. 
And  not  a  soul  in  the  dear  old  home 

Save  a  little  bound  girl  and  me. 

It  does  look  lonesome,  I  grant  it; 

Yet,  strange  as  the  thing  may  sound, 
I'm  seldom  in  want  of  company 

The  whole  of  the  merry  year  round — 
There's  spring  when  the  lilac  blossoms, 

And  the  apple  trees  blush  to  bloom, 
There's  summer  when  great  moths  flit  and  glance 

Through  the  twilight's  starlit  gloom. 

Then  comes  the  beautiful  autumn. 

When  every  fragrant  brier. 
Flinging  its  garlands  on  fence  and  wall. 

Is  bright  as  a  living  fire; 
And  then  the  white,  still  winter  time. 

When  the  snow  lies  warm  on  the  wheat, 
And  I  think  of  the  days  that  have  passed  away. 

When  my  life  was  young  and  sweet. 

I'm  a  very  happy  woman 

To-day,  though  my  hair  is  white, 
For  some  of  my  troubles  I've  overlived. 

And  some  I  keep  out  of  sight. 


WHY  ?  30I 


I'm  a  busy  old  woman,  you  see,  my  dear, 

As  I  travel  along  life's  road, 
I'm  always  trying  as  best  I  can 

To  lighten  my  neighbor's  load. 

That  child?     You  should  think  she'd  try  me? 

Does  she  earn  her  bread  and  salt  ? 
You'v'C  noticed  she's  sometimes  indolent. 

And  indolence  is  a  fault? 
Of  course  it  is,  but  the  orphan  girl 

Is  growing  as  fast  as  she  can, 
And  to  make  her  work  from  dawn  to  dark 

"Was  never  a  part  of  my  plan. 

I  like  to  see  the  dimples 

Flash  out  on  the  little  face. 
That  was  wan  enough,  and  still  enough 

When  first  she  came  to  the  place. 
I  think  she'll  do,  when  she's  older; 

A  kitten  is  not  a  cat; 
And  now  that  I  look  at  the  thing,  my  dear, 

I  hope  she'll  never  be  that. 

I'm  thankful  that  life  is  peaceful; 

I  should  just  be  sick  of  strife, 
If,  for  instance,  I  had  to  live  along 

Like  poor  Job  Slocum's  wife; 
I'm  thankful  I  didn't  say  "  yes,"  my  dear— 

What  saved  me  I  do  not  see — 
When  Job,  with  a  sprig  in  his  buttonhole. 

Once  came  a-courting  me. 

I'm  thankful  I'm  neither  poor  nor  rich. 

Glad  that  I'm  not  in  debt; 
That  I  owe  no  money  I  cannot  pay. 

And  so  have  no  call  to  fret, 
I'm  thankful  so  many  love  me. 

And  that  I've  so  manj'  to  love, 
Though  my  dearest  and  nearest  are  all  at  home, 

In  the  beautiful  land  above. 


302  GOD'S    PROVIDENCE. 

I  shall  always  keep  Thanksgiving 

In  the  good  old-fashioned  way, 
And  think  of  the  reasons  for  gratitude 

In  December,  and  June,  and  May, 
In  August,  November,  and  April, 

And  the  months  that  come  between; 
For  God  is  good,  and  my  heart  is  light, 

And  I'd  not  change  place  with  a  queen. 


God's  Providence. 

' '  God's  providence  is  mine  inheritance  !  "  I  read 
The  quaint  old  legend  on  a  rainy  day, 

When  gray  and  thick  the  clouds  hung  overhead. 
And  mists  were  folding  close  about  my  way. 

God's  providence?     Then,  wherefore  should  I  fear  ? 

My  Father's  love  is  roof  and  inn  for  me; 
Forever,  since  my  Father  holds  me  dear. 

His  goodness  shall  my  guard  and  shelter  be. 

Another,  heaven-endowed  with  worldly-  gain, 
May  count  his  wealth  and  gaze  his  acres  o'er, 

Ma}^  reap  his  harvest  fields  on  hill  and  plain. 
And  heap  in  barn  and  bin  his  fragrant  store; 

And  I  may  own  no  inch  of  tilth  or  foot 
Of  fallow  in  this  great  wide  earth  I  tread; 

Yet  am  I  rich,  and  need  no  pledge  to  boot, 
Save  God's  clear  stars  above  my  lifted  head. 

God's  providence  is  mine  inheritance.     Come  loss 
Or  change  or  grief,  whatsoe'er  God  send, 

All  things  shall  work  for  blessing,  and  the  cross 
Be  gladly  borne,  if  shared  with  Christ,  my  Friend. 


THK    (>I,I)    SWKKTHKAKTS. 


(303) 


304  THE  OLD   SWEETHEARTS. 


The  Old   Sweethearts. 

Husband — ' '  The  prettiest  laas,  with  the  lightest  foot, 

And  the  merriest  laugh  in  town , 
With  a  laugh  so  gay  it  drove  away 

The  very  thought  of  a  frown; 
A  girl  so  fair  and  debonair, 

There  was  none  as  sweet  as  she. 
You  are  winsome  and  white,  my  little  maid. 

But  you're  not  like  my  Marie." 

Wife — "  The  bravest  lad,  with  the  courtly  speech 

And  the  bow  a  prince  might  own. 
With  a  strong  right  hand,  a  look  of  command, 

A  brow  of  truth  the  throne; 
A  man  of  men  was  this  one  when 

He  first  came  seeking  me. 
You  are  bright  and  quick,  among  lads  the  pick. 

But  you're  not  like  my  Henri." 

The  two  old  dears,  their  heads  are  gray, 

They  are  old  enough  to  be  young; 
For  them  the  bells  in  jubilant  swells 

Of  the  golden  wedding  have  rung. 
Fourscore  is  one  beneath  the  sun. 

The  other  fourscore  and  five, 
But  the  true,  true  love  that  made  them  one 

Is  to-day  and  for  aye  alive. 

The  old  sweethearts,  the  fair  Marie, 

The  snow  is  on  her  hair. 
And  her  ej'es  are  dim,  but  not  for  him, 

He  deems  her  fairest  fair. 
His  shoulders  stoop,  his  head  may  droop. 

But  change  she  does  not  see. 
■  To  the  sweet  old  wife,  to  the  end  of  her  life, 

Her  hero  he  will  be. 


CHAPTER  XL. 
Our  Love  of  "  Things." 

OES  a  man  live  who  understands  how  a  woman  clings  to  her  ' '  things, ' ' 
her  furniture,  her  chairs  and  tables,  her  carpets  and  her  curtains? 
I  was  talking  a  while  ago  with  an  elderly  gentlewoman  who  has 
arrived  at  great  estate,  and  she  was  somewhat  wistfully  recalling  her 
day  of  small  things,  of  modest  beginnings.  "  When  John  and  I  set  up 
our  house,"  she  said,  "  I  did  my  own  work,  and  kept  everything 
as  neat  and  dainty  as  a  new  pin.  Later  when  we  had  larger  means  and 
I  kept  help,  I  found  that  I  could  not  compel  Bridgets  and  Gretchens  to  do  the 
work  so  exquisitely  as  I  had — it  needed  the  lady's  touch  for  that — but  I  yielded 
a  little  for  peace,  and  tried  to  possess  my  soul  in  patience  and  equanimity,  even 
though  china  was  nicked,  and  pots  and  pans  were  ruined. ' '  She  paused  for  breath 
and  then  proceeded: 

' '  My  good  Betsey  married  and  left  me  and  I  did  not  hasten  to  supply 
her  place.  The  fact  is,  I  am  enjoying  more  than  you  would  fancy,  making 
acquaintance  over  again  with  my  things;  my  tea  caddy,  and  my  oat-meal  boiler, 
and  my  egg- whip  and  my  sieves.  It  is  a  real  pleasure  to  handle  them,  and 
arrange  the  closets  in  my  own  way." 

A  woman  can  understand  this;  any  woman  can.  And  a  woman  knows  how 
fond  she  grows  of  the  old  desk  where  she  writes  her  letters,  of  the  rocking-chair 
in  which  she  sang  lullabys  to  her  babies,  of  the  old  clock  which  has  ticked  away 
the  happy  hours  of  all  her  life.  Inanimate  things,  but  so  interwoven  with  the 
very  woof  of  our  memories  and  the  very  fibre  of  our  hearts,  that  they  seem  as  if 
endowed  with  sense  and  emotion. 

I  read  a  pathetic  story  of  an  old  lady,  and  it  brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes. 
Perhaps  you  have  read  it  too.  She  was  a  Vermont  woman,  and  she  had  dwelt 
for  fifty  years  in  a  tiny  farmhouse  in  the  shelter  of  a  valley  in  the  Green  Mountains. 
Then  her  good  man  died,  and  her  children  said  that  mother  could  not  go  on 
living  there  alone.  So  Katharine  carried  her  oif  to  her  great  beautiful  home  in 
Boston,  and  gave  her  a  wide  sunny  chamber  furnished  sumptuously,  and  appointed 
a  maid  to  wait  on  her,  and  asked  her  to  do  nothing  except  rest  and  fold  her  hands 
and  be  quiet  and  go  out  for  drives  in  an  elegant  carriage. 

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3o6 


OUR  LOVE  OF    "THINGS. 


Was  the  old  lady  contented  ?  Not  in  the  least.  She  was  desolate  and  home- 
sick, and  pined  for  the  old-fashioned  home  and  the  familiar  things:  her  rag  carpet, 
her  braided  rugs,  her  stove,  her  cane-seat  rocker  with  the  chintz  covered  cushions. 
She  pined  and  fretted  and  dwindled  away  and  would  have  died  before  long,  if  a 
big-hearted,  breezy  and  sensible  daughter-in-law,  arriving  on  a  visit  from  the  dear 
old  country  home,  had  not  seen  how  the  case  stood,  and  taken  her  home  again. 
Established  within  sight  of  her  own  old  house,  with  her  old  things  around  her,  she 
plucked  up  courage  enough  to  live  and  be  happy. 

I  have  a  little  round  pine  stand,  not  one  bit  pretty,  and  old  beyond  belief; 
a  thing  which  came  to  me  from  my  great-great-grandmother,  and  it  keeps  com- 
pany with  my  old  old  clock  and  that  belonged  to  my  grandfather's  father,  and 
money  could  not  buy  either  of  these  treasures.  They  have  stood  faithfully  by  me 
in  every  vicissitude,  always  part  of  the  household  plenishing,  and  I  love  them. 
So  you,  dear  lady,  whose  eyes  fall  on  this  page,  have  your  own  things  which  you 
prize  more  than  silver  or  gold. 

Laces,  fragile  as  cobwebs,  yet  so  strong  that  they  survive  dynasties  and 
changing  empires,  fans  which  have  been  bequeathed  by  mother  to  daughter,  and 
above  all  jewels  which  are  ever  enduring  are  among  the  things  which  women  love, 
A  ring,  a  brooch,  a  trinket,  a  string  of  pearls,  but  their  very  touch  thrills  you, 
their  loss  fills  you  with  a  sorrow  too  deep  to  pass  easily  away. 


f^(J}^\^e^ 


CHAPTER   XLI. 


A  Duty  to  the  Community. 

NE  of  our  manifest  obligations  to  the  community  in  which  we  live  is  to 
do  whatever  lies  in  our  power  to  prevent  the  spread  of  infectious 
diseases.     If  we  have  diphtheria  or  scarlet  fever  within  our  doors, 
we  owe  it  to  our  neighbors  to  obey  every  precautionary  edict  and 
rigidly  to  quarantine  the  patient  and  his  nurses,    so  that  there 
shall  be  the  minimum  of  danger,  that  the  trouble  will  spread.     Thought- 
less people  sometimes  overlook  this  duty,   and  suffer  visitors  to  enter 
their  households,  or  themselves  go  forth  and  mingle  freely  with  those 
to  whom  the  malady  may  be  a  menace.     In  no  such  instance  can  a  willful 
transgressor  be  held   guiltless.     Death  may  not  ensue  from  his  action,  but  pain 
and   illness   may,    and   in    any    event   he  has   threatened    society   by   indiscreet 
and  selfish  behavior. 

When  a  child  in  any  home  has  shown  symptoms  of  a  disease  which  is  prob- 
ably infectious  or  contagious,  the  proper  course  is  to  isolate  him  until  you  are 
sure  that  it  is  safe  for  the  other  children  in  the  family  to  be  in  his  company.  If  a^ 
child  in  your  household  is  ill  with  any  dangerous  or  dreaded  malady,  notify  his 
teacher  and  withdraw  from  school  the  remaining  children  in  your  home.  Do  all 
that  in  you  lies  to  keep  the  disease  from  spreading.  This  is  your  bounden  duty 
to  the  commuuit}-. 

Equally,  if  there  is  anywhere  near  your  home  a  well  or  stream  or  cesspool, 
or  any  place  which  may  breed  disease,  you  as  a  householder  must  at  once  take 
measures  to  purify  it,  and  you  must  not  protest  if  you  are  held  responsible  in  case 
of  negligence  on  your  part,  which  is  followed  by  evil  consequences.  In  this  world 
no  man  liveth  to  himself  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself,  but  we  are  bound  in  one 
feundle  irrevocably. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  here  to  acknowledge  our  great  debt  of  gratitude  to  one 
profession,  that  of  the  trained  nurse.  Formerly  in  every  town  and  in  our  country 
villages  and  rural  farming  communities,  there  were  always  notable  women,  kind 
and  self-sacrificing,  who  would  go  to  a  friend  or  neighbor  in  her  extremity  and  help 
to  nurse  the  children  through  an  epidemic  of  measles,  watch  by  the  fevered 
patient  and  soothe  the  last  moments  of  the  dying.  Blessings  on  their  capable 
hands  and  their  compassionate  hearts  !     Still,  wherever  these  friendly  helpers  are 

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3oS) 


A   DUTY   TO  THE   COMMUNITY. 


309 


found,  they  are  uncanonized  Sisters  of  Mercy,  God's  own  angels  of  rescue  and 
relief.  In  our  more  complex  city  life,  where  you  may  live  actually  under  the 
same  roof  with  a  neighbor  and  know  nothing  of  her  except  her  name,  and  that 
only  because  it  is  over  her  doorbell ,  this  old  neighborly  exchange  of  kind  offices 
is  now  unknown.  Therefore  in  critical  and  serious  illness  we  send  a  messenger  for 
the  trained  nur.se,  and 
she  comes  to  us,   se-  40 

rene,  efficient,  gentle, 
and  equipped  for  her 
campaign,  doing  quite 
as  much  for  her  pa- 
tient and  the  family, 
as  the  physician  does. 

Trained  nurses 
are  obtained  by  appli- 
cation to  a  bureau 
where  their  names 
are  registered,  or  to 
the  hospital  where 
they  have  received 
their  training.  A 
nurse  takes  a  course 
of  two  or  more  years 
before  she  receives  her 
diploma.  In  order  to 
be  accepted  at  the  hos- 
pital where  she  desires 
to  study,  she  must 
present  a  certificate  of 
proficiency  in  ordinary 
English  branches  from 
her  teachers  at  school, 
and  a  letter  from  her 
pastor  testifying  to 
her  moral    character; 

also  a    letter  from   her  doctor,   witnessing  that  she  is  in   good    health  and  has 
sufficient  stamina  to  endure  the  hardships  of  her  novitiate. 

She  is  paid  a  small  sum,  increased  at  intervals,  while  she  pursues  her  studies. 
She  wears  a  uniform  of  cambric  gown,  apron  and  cap,  while  at  her  duty,  and  she 
submits  to  rules  as  a  soldier  to  discipline.  When  she  has  been  graduated,  she 
knows  what  she  has  been  taught. 


thb  trained  nurse. 


3IO 


A  DUTY  TO  THE   COMMUNITY. 


The  private  hospital  is,  for  those  who  can  afford  it,  another  boon  of  our 
period.  A  woman,  needing  to  undergo  a  surgical  operation,  is  not  forced  to  enter 
a  public  hospital,  nor  obliged  to  endure  deprivations  in  her  own  home,  where  the 
appliances  for  her  comfort  are  few.  She  may  go  to  a  private  hospital,  receive 
every  attention  and  be  ministered  to  most  carefully  and  intelligently,  surrounded 
by  every  condition  for  improvement,  and  by  much  luxury. 

No  one  should  now  entertain  an  old-fashioned  prejudice  against  hospital  treat- 
ment in  illness.  A  man  or  woman  taken  ill  away  from  home,  and  in  hotel  or 
boarding-house,  should  at  once  seek  admission  to  the  nearest  hospital,  confident 
of  receiving  there  the  best  medical  attendance,  and  the  best  nursing,  and  being  as 
judiciously  treated  as  if  among  dear  friends. 


'■*  Help  to  nurse  the  children." 


CHAPTER  XLII. 
Notable  Examples  of  Happiness  in  Wedded  Life. 

VERY  one  is  familiar  with  the  name  and  fame  of  L,ord  Pal- 
merston,  the  renowned  English  statesman  and  diplomat,  whose 
career  was  prolonged  to  a  ripe  age,  and  whose  bow  abode  in 
strength  almost  to  the  very  end  of  his  days.  Few  men  have 
ever  been  more  fortunate  than  Lord  Palmerston  in  his  choice 
of  a  wife,  and  in  a  married  experience  of  unalloyed  bliss. 

Lord  Palmerston  was  married  December  ii,  1839,  to 
Lord  Melbourne's  sister,  the  widow  of  Earl  Cowper,  "  a  lady 
whose  benign  influence"  was  perceptibly  felt,  and  "who  sur- 
rounded his  political  existence  with  a  social  charm  which  gave 
to  his  hospitality  an  attraction  that  at  once  enthralled  his  friends  and  soft- 
ened his  opponents."  Shortly  after  her  death,  Earl  Beaconsfield — then  Mr.  Dis- 
raeli— in  a  speech  at  Glasgow,  while  alluding  to  the  happy  circumstance  of  public 
life  in  England,  that  we  do  not,  as  a  rule,  permit  our  political  opinions  to  inter- 
fere with  our  social  relations,  recalled  in  the  following  words  otfe  of  his  reminis- 
cences: "If  you  are  on  the  continent,  and  wish  to  pay  your  respects  to  a 
minister,  and  go  to  his  reception,  you  are  invited  by  the  minister.  The  conse- 
quence is  that  you  find  no  one  except  those  that  follow  him.  It  is  not  so  in 
England.  I  remember  some  years  ago  meeting,  under  the  charming  roof  of  one 
of  the  most  accomplished  women  of  the  time,  the  most  celebrated  diplomatist  of 
certainly  half  a  century;  and  he  said  to  me,  '  What  a  wonderful  system  of  society 
you  have  in  England !  I  have  not  been  on  speaking  terms  with  Lord  Palmerston 
for  three  weeks,  and  yet  here  I  am;  but  you  see  I  am  paying  a  visit  to  Lady 
Palmerston.'  " 

She  was  a  woman,  indeed,  of  whom  he  might  well  be  proud;  as  polished  in 
her  manners  as  she  was  considerate  and  kind  in  heart.  Even  to  the  last  Lord 
Palmerston  was  anxious  to  avoid  adding  to  her  anxiety,  assuming  a  cheerfulness 
in  her  presence.  ' '  I  remember  that  only  a  few  days  before  his  death, ' '  writes 
the  Hon.  Evelyn  Ashley,  "when,  so  far  as  the  aspect  of  his  face  could  betoken 
illness,  he  appeared  as  ill  as  a  man  could  be  when  about  and  at  work.  Lady  Pal- 
merston at  breakfast  alluded  to  the  cattle-plague,  which  was  then  making  a  great 
havoc  in  England.     He  at  once  remarked  that  all  the  symptoms  of  the  disorder 


312 


HAPPINESS   IN   WEDDED   LIFE. 


were  described  by  Virgil.  He  then  told  us  a  story  of  a  scrape  he  got  into  at 
Harrow  for  throwing  stones;  and  the  excess  of  laughter,  which  he  was  unable  to 
restrain,  with  which  he  recalled  the  incident,  was  the  only  token  that  could  have 

betrayed  to  Lady 
Palmerston  how  weak 
he  was." 

It  has  been  re- 
marked that  the  same 
ardor  which  distin- 
guished the  intellect- 
ual temperament  of 
William  Whewell  be- 
longed in  an  even 
greater  degree  to  his 
affections.  This  was 
conspicuous  through- 
out his  life;  and  the 
most  indulgent  ten- 
derness was  ever  dis- 
played alike  to  those 
' '  from  whom  he  dif- 
fered in  opinion  on 
almost  every  point, 
as  well  as  to  younger 
relations,  who  could 
contribute  nothing 
but  love  and  grati- 
tude to  the  unequal 
friendship. ' '  What 
could  be  more  charm- 
ing, too,  than  the  af- 
fection he  had  for  his 
sister,  to  whom  for 
so  many  years  ' '  all 
his  home  letters  were 
written — all  his  home  thoughts  expressed?  "  To  a  man  with  such  a  deep-rooted, 
lovable  nature  marriage  meant  the  closest  union  of  sympathy  and  endearment; 
and  hence  his  married  life  was  marked  by  a  beautiful  unreserve  and  communi- 
cativeness which  knew  not  what  secrecy  or  dissimulation  meant.  Accordingly, 
one  of  the  trials  of  the  loneliness  which  ultimately  fell  upon  him  was  that,  as 


SYMPATHY  AND   ENDEARMENT. 


HAPPINESS   IN   WEDDED   LIFE.  313 

he  was  wout  to  say,  "  There  is  no  one  now  to  whom  I  can  say  whatever  occurs 
to  my  mind  at  once,  as  the  way  of  giving  reality  and  meaning  to  all  that  passes 
before  me. ' '  A  wife  with  an  uncongenial  disposition  would  have  been  a  bitter 
disappointment  to  a  man  like  Dr.  Whewell.  But  he  was  fortunate  in  Cordelia 
Marshall,  for  she  possessed  the  very  qualities  he  needed — "  a  warm  and  tender 
heart,  a  calm,  strong  sense,  a  wise  and  boundless  sympathy." 

Writing  to  his  sister,  he  playfully  announced  his  engagement  to  her,  remark- 
ing that  his  Cordelia  was  ' '  not  the  daughter  of  King  L/car,  but  of  Mr.  Marshall, 
of  Leeds. ' '  And  a  few  days  later  on,  in  a  letter  to  Archdeacon  Hare,  he  thus 
alluded  to  the  important  event: 

' '  When  I  wrote  to  you  last  I  was  not  half  grateful  enough  for  the  blessing  I 
have  now  in  prospect.  I  was  to  a  certain  extent  under  the  influence  of  bewilder- 
ment, which  has  now,  I  trust,  passed  away  forever.  I  think  of  my  fortune  with 
unmingled  hope  and  comfort,  and  of  Cordelia  as  my  good  angel." 

The  marriage  was  solemnized  on  October  12,  1841,  at  New  Church,  and  the 
honeymoon,  which  had  been  anxiously  anticipated  by  Whewell  as  a  prolonged 
season  of  calm  and  repose,  owing  as  he  supposed  to  his  final  separation  from 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  was  interrupted  by  news  which  brought  the  prospect 
of  an  appointment  which  had  been  the  summit  of  his  ambition. 

On  the  very  day  of  his  marriage  Dr.  Wordsworth,  the  Master  of  Trinity 
College,  wrote  to  him  announcing  his  intention  of  resigning,  at  the  same  time 
expressing  a  wish  that  he  might  be  * '  appointed  as  soon  as  possible  to  this 
important  concern."  Five  days  afterward  he  received  a  letter  from  Sir  Robert 
Peel,  intimating  that  Her  Majesty  had  approved  of  his  being  offered  "  the 
succession  to  Dr.  Wordsworth  as  Master  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. ' ' 

The  appointment  was  highly  popular,  and  it  was  not  long  before  Mrs. 
Whewell  endeared  herself  to  all  around,  increasing,  if  possible,  her  husband's 
influence  in  the  university  by  her  own  calm,  dignified  manner,  and  by  her  hearty 
co-operation  in  his  labors. 

Their  days  flowed  on  in  the  calmness  of  domestic  tranquillity,  without  a  flaw 
or  break,  but  in  1853  this  good  wife's  health  was  the  cause  for  the  gravest 
anxiety;  and  in  the  close  of  1855  the  dark  cloud,  which  had  been  long  impending, 
burst,  for  on  the  eighteenth  of  December  Mrs.  Whewell  died.  Thus  closed  a 
happy  union  of  fourteen  years;  and  she  who  had  shed  a  bright  lustre  in  the 
brilliant  home  of  which  she  was  so  graceful  an  ornament  was  gone. 

How  great  her  influence  was  we  have  ample  testimony  from  his  own  words, 
for  in  a  letter  to  his  sister  he  says:  ' '  She  shared  our  thoughts  from  hour  to  hour. 
And  if  I  did  anything  good  and  right  and  wise  it  was  because  I  had  goodness  and 
right-mindedness  and  wisdom  to  prompt  and  direct  me."  Writing  to  Professor 
Sedgwick  he  tells  him:      "  It  is  a  satisfaction  to  think  that  you  saw  in  some  degree 


314  HAPPINESS   IN   WEDDED   LIFE. 

how  kind  and  thoughtful  she  was.  The  riches  of  her  goodness,  wisdom  and  love 
no  one  could  know  whose  whole  life  was  not  united  with  hers.  I  must  go  on  with 
a  life  emptied  of  all  its  value.  * ' 

Lydia  Mackenzie  Eraser's  attachment  to  Hugh  Miller,  the  poor  mechanic,  was 
highly  romantic.  The  mere  fact  of  a  young  lady  falling  in  love  with  a  poetic 
stonemason  was  sufficient  of  itself  to  arouse  the  anger  of  her  mother,  who  had  no 
doubt  thought,  like  most  mothers,  that  no  one  was  too  good  for  her  daughter.  A 
girl  of  her  position,  in  her  nineteenth  year,  very  pretty,  with  a  clear  waxen 
complexion  which  resembled  that  of  a  fair  child  rather  than  of  a  grown  woman, 
would  attract  attention  in  any  society.  Added  to  this,  she  was  a  young  lady  of 
great  natural  ability,  and  could  not  fail  with  her  intellect  and  beauty  to  create  an 
impression. 

But  Hugh  Miller,  despite  the  fact  of  his  being  a  stonemason,  was  no  ordinary 
man,  for  in  a  letter  addressed  from  Cromarty  by  Mrs.  Eraser  to  her  daughter  we 
find  this  passage:  ' '  You  may  guess  what  are  his  literary  pretensions  when  I  tell 
you  that  from  my  window  at  this  moment  I  see  a  stonemason  engaged  in 
building  a  wall.  He  has  just  published  a  volume  of  poems  and  likewise  letters 
on  the  herring-fishery,  both  of  which  I  send  you. ' ' 

I^ittle  did  she  think  when  writing  these  lines  that  she  was  about  to  excite  a 
curiosity  in  her  daughter,  the  effects  of  which  she  would  have  no  power  to  control. 
An  unconscious  interest  Lydia  Eraser  at  once  took  in  the  stonemason,  and  on 
seeing  him  for  the  first  time  she  was  struck  by  the  intense  thoughtfulness  of  his 
face,  and  impressed  by  the  color  of  his  eyes,  ' '  a  deep  blue  tinged  with  sapphire. ' ' 
Equally  was  he  struck  by  her  appearance,  and  from  that  hour  a  feeling,  hitherto 
unfelt,  sprang  up  in  each  heart — the  consciousness  of  being  in  love.  It  is  true 
that,  like  most  3'^oung  girls,  Eydia  Eraser  had  admirers  with  whose  attentions  she 
was  flattered,  but,  although  these  might  be  younger  and  better  trained  socially, 
they  had  not  for  the  young  girl  the  attractions  which  were  possessed  by  her 
lover,  a  man  of  great  genius  and  sterling  worth.  A  girl  situated  as  Lydia  was 
might  anticipate  opposition  to  a  marriage  which  was  in  the  view  of  her  friends  a 
misalliance,  and  such  opposition  came.  Only  after  an  engagement  of  five  years 
were  the  yotmg  people  married.  Then  followed  years  of  happiness  and  mutual 
respect  and  regard,  while  Hugh  Miller  reaped  literary  laurels  without  stint.  Alas! 
for  the  sorrowful  conclusion  of  the  story.  In  a  fit  of  insanity  the  gifted  husband 
finally  took  his  own  life,  but  his  widow  was  comforted  by  remembering  the 
gladness  which  had  so  long  been  hers  without  a  cloud. 

Courtship  and  marriage  have  often  been  conducted  in  a  somewhat  unconven- 
tional manner.  Kepler,  the  astronomer,  it  may  be  remembered,  when  contem- 
plating marriage,  made  a  catalogue  of  twelve  ladies,  with  a  description  of  their 
qualifications;  and  Mason,  the  poet,  is  commonly  reported  to  have  proposed  to 


HAPPINESS  IN  WEDDED  LIFE. 


315 


the  lady  he  married  because  "  during  a  whole  evening  he  had  been  in  her 
company  with  others,  she  had  never  uttered  a  single  word."  She  was,  notwith- 
standing her  reticence,  possessed  of  intellectual  and  conversational  powers,  and 
made  the  poet  a  sympathetic  wife.     Abernethy  acted  in  a  similar  manner. 

He  had  a  very  quick  perception  of  character,  his  profession  afifording  him 
ample  opportunities 
for  the  exercise  and 
cultivation  of  this 
quality.  Hence,  in 
his  choice  of  a  wife 
be  was  not  likely  to 
ally  himself  to  any 
lady  who  appeared  de- 
ficient in  what  he 
considered  the  neces- 
sary qualifications  for 
this  position.  When 
visiting  some  friends 
near  London  in  his 
professional  capacity, 
he  was  introduced  to 
a  Miss  Anne  Threl- 
fall,  and  was  much 
gratified  with  her 
kindness  and  atten- 
tion. Possessing  con- 
siderable personal' 
attractions  and  agree- 
able  manners,  he 
quickly  formed  a  high 
estimate  of  her  char- 
acter, and  without 
much  further  consid- 
eration fixed  on  her  as 
his  future  wife.  Accordingly  he  wrote  a  note  expressive  of  his  wishes,  pleading 
the  nature  and  variety  of  his  occupations  as  an  apology  for  the  method  of 
making  them  known,  and  requesting  the  lady  to  take  a  fortnight  to  consider  her 
reply.  Her  answer  was  favorable,  and  the  marriage  took  place  at  Edmonton 
January  9,  1800.  One  circumstance  on  the  occasion  of  his  marriage  was  thor- 
oughly characteristic  of  Abernethy;  he  did  not  allow  it  to  interrupt,  even  for  a 


COURTSHIP. 


31 6  HAPPINESS   IN   WEDDED   LIFE. 

day,  a  duty  with  which  he  rarely  suffered  anything  to  interfere — his  lecture  at  the 
hospital.  Many  years  afterward,  when  he  was  entering  the  hospital  one  day, 
just  before  lecture,  he  met  going  out  oue  of  the  young  doctors  gaily  attired  and 
with  a  flower  in  his  coat.  The  young  man  explained  that  he  was  taking  a 
holiday  as  it  was  his  wedding  morning. 

"Ah  !  "  said  the  old  surgeon,  "  I  lectured  as  usual  on  the  morning  of  my 
marriage  day." 

About  the  year  1839,  some  one,  supposed  to  be  theSt.  John  of  "Jane  Eyre," 
and  like  him  a  clergyman,  had  the  good  sense  to  recognize  the  greatness  of 
Charlotte  Bronte,  and  to  propose  marriage.  But  she,  at  the  time  a  poor  hard- 
worked  teacher  who  hated  her  business,  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him.  She 
thus  Writes: 

"I  had  a  kindly  leaning  toward  him,  because  he  is  an  amiable  and  well- 
disposed  man,  yet  I  had  not,  and  could  not  have,  that  intense  attachment  which 
would  make  me  willing  to  die  for  him;  and  if  ever  I  marry,  it  must  be  in  that 
light  of  adoration  that  I  will  regard  my  husband.  Ten  to  one  I  shall  never  have 
the  chance  again;  but  n' importe.  Moreover,  I  was  aware  that  he  knew  so  little 
of  me  that  he  could  hardly  be  conscious  to  whom  he  was  writing.  Why  !  it 
would  startle  him  to  see  me  in  my  natural  home  character;  he  would  think  I  was 
a  wild,  romantic  enthusiast  indeed.  I  could  not  sit  all  daj^  long  making  a  grave 
face  before  my  husband.  I  would  laugh,  and  satirize,  and  say  whatever  came  into 
my  head  first.  And  if  he  were  a  clever  man,  and  loved  me,  the  whole  world, 
weighed  in  the  balance  against  his  smallest  wish,  should  be  light  as  air." 

Her  chance  of  matrimony  thus  rejected,  she  settled  down  as  a  governess;  and 
not  long  afterward  was  much  amused  by  another  offer  she  received  from  an  Irish 
curate,  whose  "declaration  of  attachment  and  proposal  of  matrimony"  she 
received  with  laughter  and  ridicule  rather  than  seriousness,  remarking,  "  I  am 
certainly  doomed  to  be  an  old  maid.  Never  mind.  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
that  fate  ever  since  I  was  twelve  years  old."     Then,  as  time  went  on,  a  certain 

Mr.  X wanted  to  marry  her — a  good  man,  and  kind  and  substantial  withal. 

But  she  did  not  like  his  manners  and  habits,  or  his  ' '  dreadful  determined  nose 
in  the  middle  of  his  face. ' '  Indeed,  when  the  unfortunate  man  came  into  her 
presence  her  veins  ran  ice,  and  although  Mr.  Bronte  took  to  him,  she  could  not 

tolerate  him.     "  No  !  if  X be  the  only  husband  fate  offers  me,  single  I  must 

always  remain.     But  yet  at  times  I  grieve  for  him." 

In  1852,  Charlotte  Bronte  was  wooed  and  won  by  the  Rev.  Arthur  Bell 
Nichols,  to  whom,  however,  she  was  not  married  till  1854.  One  .short  year  of  joy 
was  theirs,  and  then,  .succumbing  to  a  malady  incidental  to  pregnancy,  Charlotte 
Nichols,  perhaps  the  most  gifted  woman  of  her  time,  fell  asleep,  leaving  her 
husband  and  father  desolate  in  the  little  Haworth  Rectory. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 
Religion  in  the  Home. 

RACE  before  meat  is  the  common  way  of  recognizing  that  con- 
stant  goodness   of  God  which   gives   us  our   daily  bread. 
"  Lord,  Thou  openest  Thine  hand  and  satisfiest  the  desire 
of  every  living  thing,"  said  one  of  old,  and  again,  "  My  table 
Thou  hast  furnished  in  the  presence  of  mine  enemies;  my  cup 
runneth  over." 

Let  us  never  give  up  the  good  custom  of  asking  a  bless- 
ing before  beginning  our  meals.  The  head  of  the  household, 
the  father,  is  the  priest  of  his  family,  and  the  proper  person  to  conduct  its  devo- 
tions; but,  if  from  self -consciousness,  or  because  of  not  being  a  professing 
Christian,  or,  for  any  reason,  he  does  not  like  to  assume  this  office,  the  wife  should 
take  it  on  herself.  There  are  forms  of  grace  which  are  convenient  for  those  who 
cannot  compose  a  little  prayer  and  thanksgiving  with  ease,  as,  for  instance: 

"  Bless.  O  Lord,  we  beseech  Thee,  this  food  to  our  use,  and  us  to  Thy  .service;" 
or  else, 

"  For  what  we  are  about  to  receive  may  the  lyord  make  us  truly  thankful;" 
or, 

"  Lord,  bless  this  food  and  accept  our  grateful  praise;" 


"  Bless  these  mercies  to  our  use,  and  keep  us,  Lord  Jesus,  in  Thy  dear  love." 

A  little  child  may  learn  such  a  form  and  say  grace,  and  it  is  well  to  accustom 
children  to  such  service,  so  that  any  child  called  upon  may  reverently  utter  the 
words,  and  thus  consecrate  the  meal. 

An  old  English  blessing,  very  quaint  and  sweet,  runs  after  this  manner: 

"  Some  hae  meat  and  canna  eat, 
Some  can  eat  and  hae  no  meat; 
We  hae  meat,  and  we  can  eat, 
May  the  Lord  be  thankeL" 

(317) 


(3i«) 


GRACS  BKFORK  MKAI,S. 


REUGION    IN   THK   HOME. 


319 


There  is,  too,  alwa3'^s  the  option  of  the  silent  grace,  with  bowed  heads  and 
uplifted  thoughts,  and  no  spoken  words. 

Family  prayer,  once  universal  in  the  homes  of  Christians,  has  almost  been 
forgotten  in  thousands  of  homes.  The  urgency  of  trains,  the  fierce  pressure  of 
business,  the  differing  engagements  of  people  in  the  family,  children  going  to. 
school,  men  to  their  offices  and  shops,  and  one  this  way,  the  other  that,  called  oflF 
by  the  world  and  its  insistent  clamor,  that  people  fancy  they  cannot  take  time  for 
morning  prayer,  and  at  night  they  are  tired  or  scattered,  and  friends  call,  and 
there  are  meetings  to  attend,  and  the  result  is,  we  do  not  have  family  worship 
as  we  used  to,  and  it  is  a  great  pity. 

The  reading  of  a  short  portion  of  Scripture,  the  singing  of  a  hj^mn,  the 
short,  fer\^ent  prayer,  followed  by  the  Lord's  prayer  uttered  in  concert — how  easy 
is  this  brief  home  service,  and  how  elevating.  "What  a  strength  it  is  in  hours  of 
weakness,  what  a  rest  when  we  are  weary,  what  a  consolation  when  we  are  sad! 

And  the  son  or  daughter  afar  from  the  old  home,  it  may  be  wandering  among 
scenes  of  sin  and  peoples  who  hate  God,  how  the  recollection  of  the  daily  worship- 
in  the  father's  house  holds  the  distant  child  to  the  Father  in  heaven  as  by  an 
invisible  cable.  There  may  be  trouble,  there  may  be  temptation,  there  may  be 
sore  distress,  but  they  are  praying  at  home — father,  mother,  the  sisters  and 
brothers.  The  piety  of  the  home  insures  that  of  the  Church.  A  nation  of  God- 
fearing women  and  men  can  be  expected  to  come  from  homes  wherein  there  is  an. 
altar  to  God  and  daily  incense  offered  there. 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

Odds  and  Ends  for  Everybody. 

HILE  you  are  getting  ready  to  undertake  an  enterprise,  weigh- 
ing pros  and  cons  and  considering  the  difl&culties  in  the 
way  another  and  less  timid  person  has  carried  the  enterprise, 
through. 

Fear  has  a  certain  paralyzing  and  benumbing  effect  on  one's  faculties.  Never 
be  afraid.  Simply  trust  God  and  do  your  best.  If  suffering  be  appointed  you, 
bear  it  bravely,  but  not  in  fear  of  anything  worse.  ' '  Sufficient  imto  the  day  is 
the  evil  thereof." 

Habit  is  like  a  highway.  First  there  was  the  passing  along  of  some  pioneer 
and  the  path  was  broken.  Then  followed  others  and  the  path  was  widened.  At 
last  the  road  was  laid  and  now  the  traffic  of  the  countryside  is  carried  on  there. 
So  with  habit.  It  makes  its  own  highways  in  the  brain,  its  own  ruts  and 
by-paths,  its  own  appointed  ways  in  character. 

Do  not  lose  time  in  lamenting  that  certain  talents  and  capacities  which  you 
distern  in  j-ourself  are  .still  undeveloped.  Never  mind  if  you  have  not  yet  had 
an  opportunity  to  study  in  certain  attractive  fields.  Begin  to-day.  Attack  the 
new  study.  Develop  your  talents  now.  There  is  no  "too  late"  while  life 
remains  for  the  brave  and  earnest  soul. 

If  the  curtain  could  be  lifted  from  the  lives  around  us  we  should  find  that 
many  of  the  days  we  call  so  dull  and  commonplace  are  full  of  heroic  deeds.  We 
read  in  the  newspapers  of  crowned  heads  and  brave  warriors  afar,  and  learn  to 
know  them  at  least  by  name,  but  we  do  not  know  the  hero  who  daily  passes  our 
window  carrying  his  dinner-pail,  nor  the  angel  of  patience  prisoned  in  the 
invalid's  room  in  the  next  block.  Souls  that  are  strong  and  brave,  unselfish  and 
true  are  all  around  us,  even  while  we  wail  over  the  wickedness  of  the  world. 

Everybody  has  influence.  The  babe  that  never  has  spoken  or  stood  alone 
nevertheless  has  an  influence  great  enough  to  transform  lives.  Nobody  ever  was 
■without  influence.     Nevertheless,  in   a  larger  .sense,  there  is  a  greater  influence 

C320) 


ODDS  AND  ENDS  FOR  EVERYBODY. 


321 


that  is  to  be  acquired,  and  that  does  not  come  without  effort.  This  is  the  influ- 
ence that  Christians  should  seek  ;  the  influence  that  is  strength  and  sweetness  and 
light,  and  that 
spreads  abroad  the 
sweet  savor  of 
Christliness. 


Who  is  there 
that  hath  not  a 
burden,  who  that 
stands  in  no  need 
of  relief?  The  bur- 
den of  ignorance 
weighs  heavy  on 
one  man.  He  finds 
himself  so  lament- 
ably in  the  dark 
with  regard  to 
many  most  import- 
ant things.  The 
burden  of  respon- 
sibili ty  weighs 
upon  another.  The 
burden  of  some  se- 
cret frailty,  some 
unconquerable 
weakness,  oppresses 
another.  The  bur- 
denof  doubt  is 
crushing  to  this 
sin-tormented  soul. 
The  burden  of  mor- 
tality, the  fear  of 
death,  is  more  than 
another  can  bear. 
The  burden  of  lev- 
ity and  thought- 
lessness is  heavier 
to  some  than  is  generally  supposed 
thy  burden  upon  the  Lord." 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  A  CHII,D. 


To  one  and  all  the  command  is  "  Cast 
He  will  not  remove  your  burden  so  that  you  will 


322  ODDS   AND   ENDS   FOR   EVERYBODY. 

have  notidng  to  do — ^no  more  need  of  Him — but  He  will  sustain  you,  He  will 
administer  support. 

Eating  heartily  when  overfatigued  is  an  invitation  to  dyspepsia.  A  rest  of 
only  five  minutes  before  a  meal,  when  the  system  is  exhausted,  is  beneficial.  It 
will  pay  a  woman  to  remove  her  dress,  take  down  her  hair,  bathe  her  face  in  quite 
hot  water,  pressing  the  washcloth  against  the  eyes  and  back  of  the  neck,  and 
follow  this  treatment  with  a  dash  of  cold  water  in  which  a  little  cologne  or  toilet 
vinegar  has  been  sprinkled.  Then  if  she  can  lie  down  a  few  minutes  and  on 
rising  put  on  a  different  dress  she  will  feel  decidedly  refreshed. 

How  to  strengthen  the  memory  is  an  interesting  question,  I  think  the  best 
way  is  to  use  it  constantly,  making  it  serve  you  by  giving  it  definite  facts  and 
events  to  carry,  as  a  pack-horse  might  on  a  journey.  There  are  many  phases  of 
the  problem,  some  people  finding  that  they  cannot  fix  dates  in  their  minds,  others 
forgetting  the  faces  and  names  of  friends,  and  others  still  having  great  trouble  in 
committing  anything  by  rote.  Devices  of  rhymes  and  associations  help  some 
persons,  and  others  simply  depend  on  memoranda,  and  do  not  tax  their  memories 
at  all.  As  a  rule,  the  more  we  give  the  memory  to  do,  however,  the  more  quickly 
and  faithfully  it  will  respond  to  our  wishes.  In  little  children  memory  is  very 
retentive,  because  their  minds  are  at  the  stage  when  impressions  are  easily  made; 
you  know  the  line  which  says  that  in  childhood  our  minds  are  **  Wax  to  receive, 
and  marble  to  retain."  So  that  we  should  be  very  careful  indeed  about  what  we 
say,  what  we  do,  and  what  we  teach,  where  the  dear  little  ones  are  concerned. 
Some  girls  have  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  remembering  the  rules  of  syntax,  the 
Latin  conjugations,  and  the  pages  of  history  which  their  teachers  require  to  be 
recited  exactly  as  they  are  in  the  book.  Try  the  method  of  studying  aloud.  Go 
away  by  yourself  to  commit  your  lessons  to  memory,  and  then,  over  and  over, 
slowly,  carefully,  with  your  mind  and  attention  fixed  on  what  you  are  doing,  read 
phrases,  sentences  and  formulas,  over  and  over,  and  over  and  over,  and  by  and 
by  you  will  have  them  by  heart.  I  have  often  done  this  when  I  have  wished  to 
learn  a  hymn  or  a  poem,  and  I  know  that  hearing  what  one  is  studying  assists  the 
mere  seeing.  Then  having  other  people  in  the  room,  talking  and  laughing,  is 
very  distracting  to  the  attention.     Try  my  method  and  report  results. 

Said  little  Johnny  Green, 

This  is  the  funniest  world  I  ever  seen; 

A  fellow  is  sent  off  to  bed 

When  he  hain't  got  a  bit  of  sleep  in  his  head. 

And  he's  hustled  out  of  it,  don't  you  see. 

When  he's  just  as  sleepy  as  he  can  be. 


ODDS   AND   ENDS   FOR   EVERYBODY.  333 

Growing  girls  and  boys  do  not  always  appreciate  that  it  is  while  they  are 
growing  that  they  are  forming  their  figures  for  after  life.  Drooping  the  shoulders 
a  little  more  every  day,  drooping  the  head  as  one  walks,  standing  unevenly,  so 
that  one  hip  sinks  more  than  the  other — all  these  defects,  easily  corrected  now, 
will  be  five  times  as  hard  in  five  years,  and  twenty-five  times  as  hard  in  ten  years. 
A  graceful,  easy  carriage,  and  an  erect,  straight  figure,  are  a  pleasure  to  beholder 
and  possessor,  and  are  worth  striving  for. 

An  easy  way  to  practice  walking  well  is  to  start  out  right.  Just  before  you 
leave  the  house  walk  up  to  the  wall  and  see  that  your  toes,  chest  and  nose  touch 
it  at  once;  then  in  that  attitude  walk  away.  Keep  your  head  up  and  your  chest 
out,  and  your  shoulders  and  back  will  take  care  of  themselves. 

A  Southern  school  teacher  used  to  instruct  her  pupils  to  walk  always  as  if 
trying  to  look  over  the  top  of  an  imaginary  carriage  just  in  front  of  them.  It  was 
good  advice,  for  it  kept  the  head  raised.  Don't  think  these  things  are  of  no 
value.  They  add  to  your  health  and  your  attractiveness,  two  things  to  which 
everybody  should  pay  heed. 

I  think  one  of  the  most  common  forms  of  incivility  as  seen  in  daily  life  is  the 
failure  to  show  interest  in  what  people  are  saying  to  you.  This  lack  of  interest,' 
excused  on  the  score  of  preoccupation,  or  absence  of  mind,  or  inattention,  thrown 
an  effectual  chill  on  family  or  social  intercourse,  and  acts  as  a  wet  blanket 
wherever  it  is  found.  The  fact  is  that  when  people  are  together  they  should  be 
interested  in  each  other's  talk  and  each  other's  concerns.  Letters,  the  morning 
paper,  one's  own  thoughts  and  plans,  should  be  put  aside  in  the  family,  and 
whether  in  the  sitting-room  or  at  the  table,  a  common  life  shared  should  qiake 
possible  common  conversation  and  polite  intercourse. 

I  was  a  very  little  girl  when  my  father  gave  me  a  rule  for  conduct  which  has 
never  ceased  to  have  with  me  the  force  of  an  obligation.  "  Always  look  at  the 
person  who  is  speaking  to  you.  Always  look  straight  at  the  person  to  whom  you 
are  speaking. ' '  The  practice  of  this  rule  makes  one  a  good  listener,  and  a  good 
listener  is  as  essential  to  pleasure  in  conversation  as  a  good  raconteur. 

The  whole  secret,  or  nearly  the  whole  secret  of  personal  magnetism  and 
popularity,  is  in  this  habit  of  giving  deferential  attention  to  what  is  goingoh  about 
you.  Next  to  this  comes,  and  it  has  a  high  place  in  family  amenities,  the 
keeping  in  the  background  your  grievances. 

Where  people  are  sensitive,  and  the  greater  the  scale  of  refinement,  the 
greater  is  apt  to  be  the  sensitiveness  to  others'  moods  and  to  praise  or  blame,  it  is 
inevitable  that  feelings  will  be  hurt. 

But  my  grievance,  even  if  it  be  positive  and  well  grounded,  is  my  personal 
aflfair,  and  must  not  be  permitted  to  intrude  upon  the  peace  of  the  household.     It 


324  ODDS    AND   ENDS   FOR  EVERYBODY. 

is  mine,  and  therefore  it  is  my  privilege  to  put  it  with  other  unpleasant  things 
quite  out  of  sight.  No  personal  slight,  no  personal  sorrow,  no  individual 
infirmity,  should  be  allowed  to  cloud  the  general  happiness. 

Among  the  neglected  amenities  of  life,  one  finds  often  the  scarcely  veiled 
indifference  of  the  young  to  the  old.  Younger  people  are  so  full  of  vitality,  so 
occupied,  so  rushed  in  these  busy  days  with  their  engagements  and  their 
pleasures  that  they  too  frequently  have  scant  consideration  for  their  seniors.  But 
age  has  its  rights  as  well  as  its  privileges,  and  it  has  a  claim  on  the  courtesy,  the 
patience  and  the  respect  of  those  who,  however  young  they  may  be  now,  will,  if 
they  live  long  enough,  in  time  be  old  themselves. 

Among  the  needless  brutalities  of  daily  life  is  a  habit  of  brusque  and 
indiscreet  candor.  "  What  a  hideous  bonnet  you  have;  pray,  where  did  you  get 
it?  You  look  like  a  fright!  "  I  heard  one  sister  say  to  another,  and  I  felt  most 
indignant.  The  bonnet  may  or  may  not  have  deserved  the  comment ;  that  was 
a  matter  of  preference,  but  the  j-oung  v/oman  capable  of  so  rude  a  remark  should 
have  been  made  to  wear  a  penitential  sheet  with  holes  for  her  eyes  until  she  had 
learned  better  manners.  "You  are  looking  very  ill, "  if  repeated  often  enough, 
will  make  even  a  well  person  a  temporary  invalid,  and,  where  disagreeable  truths 
will  do  no  good,  and  no  principle  is  involved  in  their  expression,  it  is  best  not  to 
utter  them.     Silence  is  sometimes,  not  always,  but  often,  golden. 

A  friend  writes  asking  in  what  way  a  number  of  ladies  may  unite  to  show 
honor  to  a  person  of  distinction  who  happens  to  be  visiting  in  their  neigliborhood. 
No  single  family  is  at  present  conveniently  situated  for  the  giving  of  a  reception 
to  this  personage;  yet  all  wish  to  do  her  honor.  Why  not  have  a  composite 
luncheon  ?  To  this  all  the  ladies  might  contribute  something,  either  in  the  way 
of  viands,  flowers  or  menu  cards.  One  lady  might  have  the  luncheon  at  her 
house;  the  oldest  or  most  prominent  woman  in  the  place  chosen  to  preside,  the 
guest  of  honor  being  at  her  right  hand,  and  all  might  thus  take  part  in  showing 
their  pride  in  and  regard  for  the  author,  artist  or  traveler,  whichever  she  maj'  be, 
who  has  won  their  admiration.  In  New  York  a  number  of  ladies  often  combine 
in  this  way,' and  each  contributes  one  dollar  or  two  dollars,  or  more  or  less,  as  the 
case  may  be;  then  arrangements  are  made  with  one  of  the  hotels,  where  an  elab- 
orate luncheon  with  all  needed  service  is  provided  at  a  moderate  cost  per  capita. 
There  will  be  included  in  this  charge  a  parlor  in  which  the  company  may  receive 
their  guests,  and  a  dressing  room  where  ladies  may  leave  their  wraps.  It  is 
simply  the  method  with  which  our  women's  clubs  are  familiar,  applied  tempo- 
rarily to  a  few  friends  who  gather  for  an  occasion.  Such  a  luncheon  was 
given  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  to  a  very  charming  woman  who  was  going 
abroad   for  a  rather  prolonged  period.     In    her  case,    the  affair  was  so  nicely 


IN    BIvUKBERRY   TIME.  325 

managed  that  it  was  a  surprise  to  her.  All  guests  were  invited  to  assemble  at  one 
o'clock;  at  half  past  one  they  were  seated  in  a  spacious  dining  room,  where  tables 
were  laid  for  twenty-four  persons.  The  decorations  of  spring  flowers  were 
exceedingly  beautiful;  the  bill  of  fare,  consisting  of  a  number  of  courses,  had 
been  arranged  with  much  care.  All  guests  were  seated  at  the  tables,  when  a  lady, 
who  had  been  appointed  to  do  so,  ushered  in  the  guest  of  honor.  At  her  entrance 
everybody  rose;  handkerchiefs  were  waved  and  she  was  received  with  great  eclat! 
Everybody  does  not  like  to  be  surprised,  and  it  requires  a  good  deal  of  self-pos- 
session to  face  even  a  pleasant  surprise  without  embarrassment;  so  that,  as  a  rule, 
it  is  much  better  to  take  the  guest  of  the  day  into  your,  confidence;  allow  her  to 
be  present  to  receive  her  friends  beforehand,  and  conduct  her  with  ceremony  to 
her  place  at  the  table;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  something  very  fascinating 
and  exciting  about  a  well-carried  out  surprise,  and  in  either  case  the  person  who 
receives  such  a  compliment  should  thereafter  try  to  live  so  that  her  friends  will 
continue  to  love  her  and  be  proud  of  her  as  they  hitherto  have.  Such  loving  com- 
pliments leave  upon  one  a  great  responsibility.  It  is  like  dressing  up  to  one's 
gloves  or  one's  best  bonnet.  One  must  live  finely  whose  friends  show  that  they 
have  so  much  confidence  in  and  respect  for  her. 


Laugh  a  Little  Bit. 

Cherish  this  as  sacred  wit: 

"  Laugh  a  little  bit." 

Keep  it  with  you,  sample  it: 

"  Laugh  a  little  bit. " 

lyittle  ills  will  sure  betide  you, 

Fortune  may  not  sit  beside  you, 

Men  may  mock  and  Fame  deride  you. 

But  you'll  mind  them  not  a  whit 

If  you  laugh  a  little  bit. 


In  Blueberry  Time. 


'Tis  blueberry  time,  and  the  pasture 
High  up  on  the  hill-side  is  sweet 

With  the  fragrance  of  hay,  and  the  incense 
Of  flowers  you  crush  'neath  your  feet. 


326  A   PRAYER   FOR   UTTI.E  THINGS. 

The  stone  wall  is  crimsoned  with  briers, 
The  clematis  tangles  its  spray, 

The  deep,  wine-red  plume  of  the  sumac 
Uplifts  like  a  soldier  at  bay. 

Bob  White,  with  his  silverj'^  whistle. 

Sings  shrill  from  the  heart  of  the  corn, 
And  clear  over  fir-top  and  elm-top 

The  caw  of  the  black  crow  is  borne; 
And  night  falls  in  shadow  and  silence, 

Save  only  the  katydid's  strain, 
And  the  hoot  of  the  owl  from  the  thicket, 

Or  the  whippoorwill's  plaintive  refrain. 

'  Tis  blueberry  time  in  the  mountains, 

The  time  of  the  quiver  of  heat. 
The  time  of  the  sudden  down-slashing 

Of  rain  that  is  welcome  and  sweet. 
The  bare- footed,  brown,  dimpled  children 

Troop  out  with  their  baskets  and  pails; 
The  rabbits  are  scared  at  their  laughter. 

And,  startled,  forth  flutter  the  quails. 


A  Prayer  for  Little  Things. 

A  little  light,  O  Father,  that  my  feet 

Along  life's  devious  ways  may  stumble  not, 

That  I  may  give  to  virtue  praises  meet, 
Nor  all  too  harshly  scan  the  sins  that  blot 

And  darken  many  a  life  that  seemeth  fair 

But  hides  some  blighting  sin,  some  cankering  care. 

A  little  love,  but  changeless,  pure  and  true. 

That,  when  my  soul  faints  'neath  life's  heavy  load 

And  yields  the  race  with  victory  in  view. 

Shall,  like  the  fount  that  in  the  desert  flowed, 

When  Israel's  prophet  smote  the  frowning  rock, 

Still  give  me  strength  for  sorrow's  rudest  shock. 


FRANCES  WILLARD'S   COUNSEL  TO   GIRLS.  327 

And  one  more  boon,  O  Father,  let  me  gain 

When  these  worn  hands  are  folded  in  repose, 
And  this  sad  heart,  so  often  thrilled  with  pain, 

Shall  lose  in  death  its  trials  and  its  woes; 
Grant  me,  before  Heaven's  praises  I  begin, 
A  little  space  to  rest,  Thy  courts  within. 

—Louise  IV.  German. 


Frances  Willard's  Counsel  to  Girls. 

Miss  Willard  was  constantly  impressing  it  upon  her  hearers  and  readers  that 
every  woman,  rich  or  poor,  married  or  unmarried,  should  cultivate  individuality 
and  independence.  One  of  the  most  characteristic  chapters  in  her  breezy,  helpful 
book  for  girls,  "How  to  Win,"  is  the  one  in  which  she  urges  every  young 
reader  to  cultivate  a  specialty.  ' '  By  this  means, ' '  she  writes,  '  'you  will  get 
into  your  cranium,  in  place  of  aimless  reverie,  a  resolute  aim."  And  she  goes 
on  to  say: 

"  This  is  where  your  brother  has  had  his  chief  intellectual  advantage  over 
you.  Quicker  of  wit  than  he,  far  less  unwieldy  in  your  mental  processes,  swifter 
in  judgment,  and  every  whit  as  accurate,  you  still  have  felt  when  measuring  intel- 
lectual swords  with  him  that  yours  was  in  your  left  hand,  that  his  was  in  his 
right;  and  you  have  felt  this  chiefly,  as  I  believe,  because  from  the  dawn  of 
thought  in  his  sturdy  young  brain  he  has  been  taught  that  he  must  have  a  definite 
aim  in  life  if  he  ever  meant  to  swell  the  ranks  of  the  somebodies  upon  this  planet, 
while  you  have  been  just  as  sedulously  taught  that  the  handsome  prince  might 
whirl  past  your  door  "most  an)'-  day,'  lift  j'ou  to  a  seat  beside  him  in  his 
golden  chariot  and  carry  you  off  to  his  castle  in  Spain. 

'  'And  of  course  you  dream  about  all  this;  why  shouldn't  you?  Who  wouldn't? 
But,  ray  dear  girls,  dreaming  is  the  poorest  of  all  grindstones  on  which  to  sharpen 
one's  wits.  And  to  my  thinking  the  rust  of  woman's  intellect,  the  canker  of  her 
heart,  the  'worm  i'  the  bud'  of  her  noblest  possibilities  has  been  this  aimless 
reverie;  this  rambling  of  the  thoughts;  this  vagueness,  which  when  it  is  finished 
is  vacuity.  Let  us  turn  our  gaze  inward,  those  of  us  who  are  not  thoroughgoing 
workers  with  brain  or  hand.  What  do  we  find  ?  A  mild  chaos,  a  glimmering 
nebula  of  fancies,  an  insipid  brain  soup  where  a  few  lumps  of  thought  swim  in  a 
watery  gravy  of  dreams,  and,  as  nothing  can  come  of  nothing,  what  wonder  if 
ao  brilliancy  of  achievement  promises  to  flood  our  future  with  its  light!  Few 
women,  growing  up  under  the  present  order  of  things,  can  claim  complete  exemp- 
'tion  from  this  grave  intellectual  infirmity." 


328  SUMMER   IN  THE  SOUI.. 

Gifts  to  God. 

The  wise  may  bring  their  learning, 

The  rich  may  bring  their  wealth, 
And  some  may  bring  their  greatness, 

And  some  bring  strength  and  health. 
We,  too,  would  bring  our  treasures. 

To  offer  to  the  King; 
We  have  no  wealth  or  learning — 

What  shall  the  children  bring  ? 

We'll  bring  Him  hearts  that  love  Him, 

We'll  bring  Him  thankful  praise, 
And  young  souls  meekly  striving 

To  walk  in  holy  ways. 
We'll  bring  the  little  duties 

We  have  to  do  each  day; 
We'll  try  our  best  to  please  Him 

At  home,  at  school,  at  play. 

And  these  shall  be  the  treasures 

We  offer  to  the  King. 
And  these  are  gifts  that  even 

The  poorest  child  may  bring. 


Summer  in  the  Soul. 

Since  I  have  learned  Thy  love. 
My  summer,  Lord,  Thou  art; 

Summer  to  me,  and  day. 
And  life-springs  in  my  heart 

Thy  blood  blots  out  my  sin, 
Thy  love  casts  out  my  fear; 

Heaven  is  no  longer  far, 

Since  Thou,  its  sun,  art  near. 

Summer!  life-fountains!  day! 

Within — around — above, 
Where  we  shall  see  Thy  face. 

Where  we  shall  feel  Thy  love. 


A  LOVE  SONG.  329 

Some  Time. 

Some  time,  when  all  life's  lessons  have  been  learned, 

And  sun  and  stars  tbrevermore  have  set, 
The  things  which  our  weak  judgments  here  have  spumed, 

The  things  o'er  which  we  grieved  with  lashes  wet, 
Will  flash  before  us,  out  of  life's  dark  night. 

As  stars  shine  most  in  deeper  tints  of  blue; 
And  we  shall  see  how  all  God's  plans  are  right, 

And  how  what  seemed  reproof  was  love  most  true. 

But  not  to-day.     Then  be  content,  poor  heart! 

God's  plans  like  lilies  pure  and  white  unfold; 
We  must  not  tear  the  close  shut  leaves  apart. 

Time  will  reveal  the  calyxes  of  gold. 
And  if,  through  patient  toil,  we  reach  the  land 

Where  tired  feet,  with  sandals  loosed,  may  rest, 
Where  we  shall  clearly  see  and  understand , 

I  think  that  we  will  say,  "  God  knew  the  best!" 

— May  Riley  Smith, 


A  Love  Song. 

So  near,  so  very  near  to  God, 

I  cannot  nearer  be; 
For  in  the  person  of  His  Son 

I  am  as  near  as  He. 

So  dear,  so  very  dear  to  God, 
More  dear  I  cannot  be; 

The  love  wherewith  He  loves  the  Son- 
Is  the  love  He  giveth  me. 

Why  should  I  ever  careful  be, 

Since  such  a  God  is  mine  ? 
He  watches  o'er  me  night  and  day, 

And  tells  me,  "  Mine  is  thine." 


330  SAVED   BY   GRACE. 

Saved  by  Grace. 

I  found  this  very  remarkable  instance  of  parental  fattU  in  the  "  Interior." 
It  was  written  by  one  who  knew  whereof  he  testified: 

It  happened  more  than  seventy  years  ago,  in  an  humble  Christian  home.  A 
boy  only  six  years  old  was  sick  with  typhoid  fever.  His  name  was  not  Samuel, 
and  his  mother's  name  was  not  Hannah,  but  she  had  given  him  to  the  Lord  as 
soon  as  he  was  born,  and  her  daily  wish  and  prayer  had  been  that  he  might  be  a 
minister  of  the  gospel.  But  now  the  doctor,  who  stood  with  the  parents  by  the 
little  bed,  felt  the  fluttering  pulse,  and  told  them  that  the  boy  was  dying.  At 
once  the  father,  a  man  of  indomitable  energy,  began  to  rub  the  limbs  of  the 
sufiferer  with  alcohol,  hoping  to  quicken  the  ebbing  circulation,  and  the  mother 
knelt  in  prayer.  In  a  few  minutes  the  doctor  said:  "  You  may  stop  rubbing  and 
praying  for  the  child  is  dead."  They  heard  him,  but  kept  right  on  as  before. 
The  doctor  was  a  personal  friend  as  well  as  a  skillful  physician.  He  sympathized 
with  the  anxiety  of  these  parents  to  save  their  darling,  and  yet  he  was  indignant 
at  their  want  of  faith  in  him.  He  waited  some  minutes,  and  then  said  again, 
"  What  is  the  use  of  your  fussing  and  your  prayers,  I  tell  you  that  there  is  no 
hope.  The  child  has  ceased  to  breathe,  his  pulse  is  still,  his  extremities  are  cold, 
he  is  dead."  The  father  did  not  reply  at  once,  but  after  another  interval  of 
intense  attention  and  effort,  he  said,  "  Doctor,  put  your  finger  in  this  arm-pit,  and 
tell  me  what  you  think?"  The  doctor  did  so,  and  exclaimed:  "  Why,  there  is  a 
throbbing  here,  rub  on,  rub  on."  And  he  hastened  to  prepare  a  stimulating  draft 
to  be  put  into  the  patient's  mouth  as  soon  as  there  was  any  possibility  of  its  being 
swallowed.  Now  father  and  doctor  worked  together,  while  the  mother  still 
prayed,  and  in  half  an  hour,  or  less,  the  child  was  pronounced  out  of  danger. 

I  talked  many  times  with  the  actors  in  that  scene,  and  knew  what  their 
thoughts  and  feelings  were.  The  doctor  said  that  the  child  for  ten  minutes  had 
given  no  sign  of  life,  and  yet  in  some  mysterious  way  a  spark  of  vitality  must 
have  lingered  somewhere,  and  the  rubbing  quickened  it.  He  was  certain  that 
without  that  severe  friction  there  would  never  have  been  any  animation.  Then, 
after  this  attempt  at  a  professional  explanation  the  good  man  would  shake  his 
head  and  say:  "If  this  was  the  age  of  miracles  I  could  believe  in  that  child's 
recovery  as  one." 

The  father  did  not  say  much.  He  had  heard  of  cases  where  even  doctors 
were  mistaken.  He  never  gave  up  as  long  as  there  was  the  remotest  possibility 
of  success,  and  while  his  good  wife,  in  whose  piety  he  had  the  fullest  confidence, 
kept  on  praying,  he  felt  that  it  was  his  duty  to  keep  on  working. 

But  the  mother  told  me,  again  and  again,  that  she  knew  God  had  accepted 
Irerosnsecration  of  her  child  to  Him  and  to  His  service,  and  she  could  not  believe 


SAVED   BY  GRACE.  331 

that  He  had  been  mocking  her.  She  was  sure  that  He  was  only  trying  her  faith, 
and  she  told  Him  so,  reverently  but  earnestly.  The  Holy  Spirit  inspired  her  to 
continue  in  prayer  notwithstanding  the  doctor's  declaration.  She  had  more  faith 
in  her  Heavenly  Father  than  in  the  most  skillful  human  physician.  In  her 
case  it  was  not  rash  or  indiscreet  presumption,  but  a  simple,  childlike 
confidence.  That  boy  grew  to  manhood  and  in  time  became  a  minister.  He 
has  now  been  preaching  the  gospel  for  nearlj'  fifty  years,  and  though  far  beyond 
three-score  and  ten  he  is  not  yet  superannuated  or  "  honorably  retired." 

I  have  thought  of  this  scene  many  times  when  reading  the  criticisms  of 
rationalists  and  conceited  scientists.  They  call  our  Christian  faith  a  senseless 
superstition.  They  don't  believe  in  anything  but  the  phenomena  of  nature.  But 
if  there  is  a  great  all-pervading  and  all-controlling  Spirit,  as  we  believe,  what, 
they  ask,  is  the  use  of  prayer  ?  Can  we  induce  Him  to  change  His  governmental 
policy  by  our  petitions?  We  do  not  stop  to  argue  with  such  cavilers,  as  those 
parents  did  not  stop  to  argue  with  the  doctor.  We  have  no  time  to  waste  in  that 
way.  Millions  are  dying,  and  hence  we  just  keep  on  praying  and  working.  God 
has  told  us  to  ask  and  we  shall  receive,  to  ask  in  faith  and  to  show  our  faith  by 
our  works.  As  obedient  children  we  do  just  what  our  Father  tells  us  to,  though 
we  can  not  know  just  how  our  feeble  supplications  can  move  the  arm  that  moves  the 
world.  From  the  Bible  standpoint,  na}--,  from  that  of  the  dust  even,  how  foolish  is 
all  this  prating  about  nature  and  miracles.  If  there  is  a  God  who  is  over  all  and  in 
all,  a  God  who  doeth  His  pleasure  among  the  armies  of  heaven  and  the  inhabitants 
of  the  earth,  nature  can  mean  only  the  way  in  which  He  chooses  to  work,  and 
what  we  call  miracles  are  only  the  results  of  such  natural  processes  as  are  new  to 
us  or  such  temporary  departures  from  those  processes  as  the  All-wise  and  All- 
mighty  one  chooses  to  make.  A  finite  creature  cannot  comprehend  the  Infinite. 
It  is  therefore  his  duty  and  should  be  his  joy  to  trust  and  obey.  Much  of  what 
men  call  wisdom  is  foolishness  with  God.  Nothing  in  human  experience  is  so 
sweet,  so  full  of  comfort  and  hope  as  a  simple,  childlike  faith — a  faith  like  that  of 
the  mother  at  the  bedside  of  her  sick  boy.  Perhaps  her  prayers  did  more  than  her 
husband's  efforts  to  retain  and  quicken  the  feeble,  fluttering  pulse. 

And  here  I  am  reminded  of  a  story.  Some  children  were  playing  on  the 
bank  of  a  stream.  A  little  boy  fell  in.  The  older  boys  rushed  to  the  rescue. 
They  joined  hands  and  waded  out  to  where  the  child  was  drowning.  With  their 
living  life-line  they  brought  him  to  the  shore.  And  then  his  four-year-old  sister 
knelt  beside  him,  and  thanked  God  that  they  had  been  able  to  save  her  brother. 
One  of  the  boys  said:  "You  had  better  thank  us,  for  we  did  it."  "I  do,"  she 
replied,  "  but  I  thank  God  too,  for  while  you  were  wading  I  was  praying."  That 
baby-believer  was  right.  She  was  taught  of  God,  and  hence  understood  the 
philosophy  of  salvation. 


332  THE   LITTLE   RED   STAMP. 

Camp  Echoes. 

"  Rally  round  the  flag,  boys  !  Give  it  to  the  breeze  ! 

Bless  the  dear  old  fiddle  that  wakes  the  gallant  air. 
Once  we  thundered  it  in  chorus  like  the  booming  of  the  seas, 

Wives  and  sweethearts  joining  in,  with  an  "Amen"  to  the  prayer. 

We're  a  lot  of  grizzled  fellows,  not  so  much  to  look  at  now  ! 

Young  and  full  of  vigor  when  the  war  began. 
Some  behind  the  counter,  and  some  behind  the  plow, 

But  we  rallied  for  the  country,  enlisted  to  a  man. 

Counting  not  the  cost,  boys,  never  sordid  aims 

Dimmed  our  record,  hasting  to  the  conflict's  brunt; 
Each  to  serve  the  nation,  we  answered  to  our  names, 

And  the  flag  before  us,  we  hurried  to  the  front. 

Can't  you  see  it  waving,  the  banner  of  our  love. 

Where  the  Shenandoah  loops  and  twists  like  mad  ?* 
Can't  you  hear  the  shouting,  the  dying  groans  above. 

When  we'd  won  a  battle,  and — lost  the  best  we  had  ? 

Blessings  on  the  music  of    "  Tramp,  tramp,  tramp  !  " 

How  it  rang  its  challenge  down  the  serried  lines. 
Cheered  us  whem  like  hounds  a-leash,  we  strained  through  days  in  camp, 

Or  crashed  with  Sherman's  storm-cloud,  through  Georgia's  solemn  pines 

Here,  like  useless  hulks,  boys,  we  doze  the  days  away — 

Doze  and  dream  and  spin  our  yarns;  but  when  we  come  to  die, 

Lights  out,  some  true  hand  for  us  let  "  taps  "  the  last  time  play. 
Then  wrap  the  flag  about  us  in  the  bed  where  last  we  lie. 


The  Little  Red  Stamp. 

I'm  the  little  red  stamp  with  George  Washington's  picture, 

I  have  the  right  of  way; 
And  the  mail  train  thunders  from  under  the  stars 

And  rattles  into  the  day. 


THE   LITTLE  RED  STAMP.  333 

Now  clear  the  rail  for  your  Uncle  Sam's  mail; 

Ye  freight  trains  stand  aside! 
Spur  your  iron-lunged  horse  to  his  fullest  speed, 

For  the  little  red  stamp  would  ride. 
So  vomit  your  flame  on  the  startled  night 

And  your  smoke  in  the  face  of  the  day; 
For  the  little  red  stamp  with  George  Washington's  picture 

Must  have  the  right  of  way. 

The  engine  plows,  when  I  start  on  my  ride, 

Through  the  drifted  banks  of  snow; 
But  we  hasten  to  climes  where  the  rivers  melt 

And  climes  where  the  roses  blowv 
First  the  pines  of  Maine,  then  the  ^ansas  plain, 

Then  whiffs  from  the  western  bay, 
Till  I  drop  in  the  hands  that  have  reached  for  me 

A  thousand  leagues  away. 
Pull  open  the  throttle  and  loose  every  brake, 

And  dash  through  the  night  and  the  day; 
For  the  little  red  stamp  with  George  Washington's  picture 

Must  have  the  right  of  way. 

I'm  the  little  red  stamp  with  George  Washington's  picture; 

And  I  go  wherever  I  may. 
To  any  spot  in  George  Washington's  land; 

And  I  go  by  the  shortest  way. 
And  the  guns  of  wrath  would  clear  my  path, 

A  thousand  guns  at  need, 
Of  the  hands  that  should  dare  to  block  my  course 

Or  slacken  my  onward  speed. 
Stand  back!     Hands  off  of  Uncle  Sam's  mail! 

Stand  back  there!     Back!  I  say; 
For  the  little  red  stamp  with  George  Washington's  picture 

Must  have  the  right  of  way. 

— From  ^^ Dreams  in  Homespun y 


CHAPTER    XLV. 

Trouble  and  Sorrow. 


OD  does  not  willingly  afflict  His  children,  but  God  sends  sometimes 
trouble  and  sorrow.  In  one  or  another  form  men's  souls  are 
tried.  Loss  of  fortune  comes.  Riches  take  wings.  Bereave- 
ment comes.  Our  loved  ones  lie  down  in  the  cold  grave. 
Plans  are  defeated.  Sometimes  we  walk  softly  through  the 
valley  of  the  shadow;  sometimes  the  gloom  is  very  deep,  and 
we  grope  in  vain  for  light.     But  courage  faint  heart! 

"  Thy  shepherd  is  beside  thee 
And  nothing  shalt  thou  lack!" 

His  rod  and  His  staff  will  guide  us  all  our  journey  through,  and  "in  heavenly 
love  confiding,  no  change  our  heart  shall  fear." 

So  long  as  we  love  and  trust  God  trouble  may  bend,  but  it  will  not  break  us. 
The  storm  will  perhaps  rock  our  barque  over  rough  waves,  but  after  all  it  will  but 
quicken  our  journey  home. 

Says  the  Rev.  Dr.  T.  ly.  Cuyler:  "  I  am  often  impressed  by  the  different  ways 
in  which  different  persons  are  affected  by  sorrows.  Some  seem  to  have  no  rallying 
power  after  a  great  affliction;  the  wound  never  heals.  On  the  other  hand,  trials 
that  consume  some  persons  only  kindle  others  into  greater  exertions.  '  This 
financial  gale  has  carried  away  all  your  spars  and  swept  your  decks, '  I  once  wrote 
to  an  eminent  Christian  merchant,  after  his  bankruptcy,  '  but  you  have  got  enough 
grace  stowed  away  in  your  hold  to  make  you  rich  to  all  eternity.'  That  brave 
servant  of  Christ  repaired  damages,  resumed  business,  rallied  his  friends,  and  '  at 
evening  time  it  was  light. '     Smitten  down  he  was  not  destroyed. 

' '  The  afflictions  which  are  sent  of  God  or  permitted  by  Him  are  never 
intended  for  His  children's  destruction,  but  for  their  discipline.  The  Shepherd 
casts  His  flock  into  deep  waters  to  wash  them,  not  to  drown  them.  '  You  will 
kill  that  bush  if  you  put  that  knife  into  it  so  deep,'  said  a  gentleman  to  his  gar- 
dener. '  No,  sir;  I  do  this  every  year  to  keep  it  from  running  all  to  leaves; 
pruning  brings  the  fruit.'  We  pastors  often  find  God's  faithful  ones  bleeding^ 
under  the  knife,  but  afterward  they  yield  the  peaceable  and  precious  fruits  of 

(334) 


''  *  "n  ''iiiMiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii{||j||i'  >  i||ii  ;>  i 


SORROWS. 


(335) 


336  REMEMBRANCE. 

righteousness  and  triumphant  trust.  It  is  that  '  afterward  '  that  God  has  in  His 
mind  when  He  sends  the  trial.  Affliction  is  the  costly  school  in  which  great 
graces  are  often  acquired,  and  from  which  grand  characters  are  graduated. 

' '  How  is  it  that  a  genuine  Christian  recuperates  after  being  stricken  down  by 
a  savage  adversity  or  a  sharp  affliction  ?  Simply  because  his  graces  survive  the 
shock.  For  one  thing,  his  faith  is  not  destroyed.  When  a  ship  loses  her  canvas 
in  a  gale  she  can  still  be  kept  out  of  the  trough  of  the  sea  by  her  rudder;  when 
the  rudder  goes  she  still  has  her  anchor  left,  but  if  the  cable  snaps  she  is  swept 
helplessly  on  the  rocks.  So,  when  j'our  hold  on  God  is  gone,  all  is  gone.  The 
most  fatal  wreck  that  can  overtake  you  in  times  of  sorrow  is  the  wreck  of  faith. 
But  if  in  the  darkest  hour  you  can  trust  God  though  He  slay,  and  firmly  believe 
that  He  'chastens  you  for  your  profit,'  you  are  anchored  to  the  very  throne  of 
love  and  will  come  off  conqueror.  Hope  also  is  another  grace  that  survives. 
Some  Christians  never  shine  so  brightly  as  in  the  midnight  of  sorrow.  I  know  of 
good  people  who  are  like  an  ivory  dice,  throw  it  whichever  way  you  will  it  alw^ays 
lands  on  a  square,  solid  bottom.  Their  hope  always  strikes  on  its  feet  after  the 
hardest  fall.  One  might  have  thought  that  it  was  all  over  with  Joseph  w^hen  he 
was  sent  to  prison,  or  with  John  when  he  was  exiled  to  Patmos,  or  with  John 
Bunyan  when  he  was  locked  up  in  Bedford  jail.  But  they  were  all  put  in  the 
place  where  they  could  be  most  useful." 


Remembrance. 

My  cup  is  the  cup  of  sorrow, 

And,  turn  it  as  I  will, 
The  breath  of  the  myrrh  and  aloes 

Clings  to  its  sharp  edge  still; 
But  if  ever  I  fain  would  leave  it 

With  the  bitter  dregs  unquaffed, 
Jesus,  I  try  to  remember 

Thine  was  a  harder  draught! 

My  path  is  beset  with  briers; 

They  tear  my  lagging  feet; 
Dark  are  the  ways  I  wander, 

Cruel  the  foes  I  meet; 
But  if  ever  I  fain  would  linger, 

Then  comes  that  face  divins 
Jesus,  I  try  to  remember 

A  wearier  road  was  Thine! 


THE   ALOOFNESS   OF  GRIEF  337 

My  cross  is  of  fire  and  iron , 

It  wounds  to  the  very  bone; 
But  if  to  the  top  of  Calvary 

I  needs  must  climb  alone, 
When  the  soul  that  I  would  have  died  for 

Turns,  ice  and  stone,  from  me, 
Saviour  of  all,  I  remember 

A  world  rejected  Thee ! 


Hide  Thy  Grief. 

Bury  thy  sorrow,  the  world  hath  its  share; 
Bury  it  deeply,  hide  it  with  care. 

Think  of  it  calmly,  when  curtained  by  night; 
Tell  it  to  Jesus,  and  all  will  be  right. 

Tell  it  to  Jesus,  He  knoweth  thy  grief; 
Tell  it  to  Jesus,  He'll  send  thee  relief. 

Hearts  grown  aweary  with  heavier  woe 
Droop  'mid  the  darkness;  go  comfort  them,  go. 

Gather  the  sunlight  aglow  on  thy  way; 
Gather  the  moonbeams — each  soft  silver  ray. 

Bury  thy  sorrow,  let  others  be  blest; 

Give  them  the  sunshine,  tell  Jesus  the  rest. 


The  Aloofness  of  Grief. 

Our  Lord  was  alone  in  Gethseraane.  Then,  as  all  through  His  earthly  life, 
was  fulfilled  the  word  of  the  prophet  that  He  was  a  Man  of  Sorrows  and 
acquainted  with  grief.  In  those  experiences  of  trial  and  suffering  which  come  to 
His  followers  there  is  great  comfort  in  the  thought  that  He  is  aware  of  the  loneli- 
ness and  desolation  of  those  who  are  led  by  grief  into  the  wilderness,  there  to 
wrestle  with  the  tempter,  there  to  struggle  or  to  bend  beneath  the  pressing  load, 
there  to  await  the  relief  of  heaven  in  the  hour  of  utmost  need. 

We  are  often  impressed  anew  as  we  sit  in  homes  under  the  shadow  with  the 
aloofness  of  grief.  It  has  a  certain  awesome  dignity.  Into  the  mystic  circle 
22 


338  THE  AI.OOFNESS   OF   GRIEF. 

which  it  draws  about  the  sufferer  no  alien  may  intrude.  Even  friends  and  kin- 
dred walk  softly  and  touch  with  gentlest  care  the  hand  of  her  whose  whole  being 
is  absorbed  in  one  intense  yearning  for  that  which  has  gone,  in  one  baffled  heart- 
ache over  the  mistakes  of  the  past,  in  one  agonized  endurance  of  the  conditions 
of  the  present.  It  seems  strange  that  just  beyond  that  hushed  and  darkened 
spot,  where  the  mourner's  slow  tears  fall,  the  world  is  going  on  just  the  same  as 
it  did  before,  with  cheerful  sounds  of  activity,  the  stir  of  business,  the  whirl  of 
gayety,  the  comings  and  goings  of  eager  and  happy  people  not  aflFected  by  the 
heartbreak  which  has  set  its  seal  on  the  bereaved.  To  them  life  is  shorn  for  the 
moment  of  its  usual  interests,  they  feel  stunned  or  benumbed,  or  else  acutely 
alive  to  the  suffering  in  every  vein  and  nerve,  but  the  world  does  not  care,  and 
nature  goes  smilingly  on  in  its  procession  of  day  and  night  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. 

The  aloofness  of  grief,  while  it  apparently  adds  to  the  intensity  of  its  sadness, 
is  really  a  blessing,  for  it  surrounds  the  mourner  with  a  sanctuary.  As  of  old 
one  in  peril  clung  to  the  horns  of  the  altar  and  was  safe,  so  in  the  extremit}^  of 
mortal  pain  and  the  bitterness  of  the  anguish-cup  the  wounded  heart  is  shut 
away  from  the  world  and  shut  in  to  heaven.  At  first  the  cloud  is  so  dark  that 
heaven  itself  hardly  penetrates  it,  but  by  degrees  there  comes  the  rifting  light. 
The  voice  that  could  not  frame  coherent  petitions  falters  out  its  "Oh,  my  Father," 
and  back  through  the  gloom,  thrillingly,  tenderly,  returns  the  answer,  "Here, 
my  child."  Bit  by  bit  faith  resumes  its  control,  never  lost,  but  perhaps  for  a 
little  while  shaken,  and  the  promises,  one  by  one,  rise  and  glow,  like  stars  in  the 
firmament. 

One  can  do  little  for  friends  in  deep  sorrow  by  the  way  of  direct  counsel;  spoken 
comfort  is  inadequate.  The  ordinary'  consolations,  accepted  in  ordinary  times, 
fall  on  deaf  ears.  To  love  one's  own,  to  cling  to  them,  to  feel  with  them,  to  pray 
for  them,  is  the  most  that  sympathetic  and  affectionate  friends  can  do  in  the  hour 
of  the  aloofness  of  grief 

Friends  and  relatives  do  not  always  see  this  necessity  of  letting  the  grief- 
stricken  remain  in  the  sanctuary.  With  well-meant,  but  clumsy,  endeavors  thej'- 
force  food  on  those  who  are  not  hungry  and  drink  on  those  who  are  not  athirst. 
They  speak  of  recreation  to  those  who  can  think  of  nothing  beyond  the  desert 
place  in  which  they  must  abide  till  the  tender  Shepherd  Himself  find  them  and 
lead  them  into  the  light.  It  would  be  better  in  most  cases  to  forbear  attempts 
which  do  little  good,  and  to  wait  with  patience  for  the  healing  touch  of  time  and 
the  return  of  healthy  life  and  vigor.  These  come  when  God  has  done  what  the 
sorrow  was  sent  for,  and  from  the  sorrow's  hour  of  darkness  the  sufferer  arises, 
stronger  to  comfort  others,  with  a  new  experience  of  the  divine  love,  and  some- 
times with  a  revelation,  never  forgotten,  of  the  nearness  of  heaven  to  earth. 


THE   ALOOFNESS   OF   GRIEF.  339 

The  day  grows  lonelier;  the  air 

Is  chiller  than  it  used  to  be. 
We  hear  about  us  everywhere 

The  haunting  chords  of  memory. 
Dear  faces  once  that  made  our  joy 

Have  vanished  from  the  sweet  home  band, 
Dear  tasks  that  were  our  loved  employ 

Have  dropped  from  out  our  loosened  hand. 

Familiar  names  in  childhood  given 
None  call  us  by,  save  those  in  heaven. 
We  cannot  talk  with  later  friends 
Of  those  old  times  to  which  love  lends 
Such  mystic  haze  of  soft  regret; 
We  would  not,  if  we  could,  forget 
The  sweetness  of  the  bygone  hours. 
So  priceless  are  love's  faded  flowers; 
But  lonelier  grows  the  waning  day, 
And  much  we  miss  upon  the  way 
Our  comrades  who  have  heard  the  call 
That  soon  or  late  must  summon  all. 

Ah,  well!  the  day  grows  lonelier  here. 
Thank  God ,  it  doth  not  yet  appear 
What  thrill  of  perfect  bliss  awaits 
Those  who  pass  on  within  the  gates. 
Oh,  dear  ones  who  have  left  my  side. 
And  passed  beyond  the  swelling  tide, 
I  know  that  you  will  meet  me  when 
I,  too,  shall  leave  these  ranks  of  men 
And  find  the  glorious  company 
Of  saints  from  sin  forever  free. 
Of  angels  who  do  always  see 
The  face  of  Christ,  and  ever  stand 
Serene  and  strong  at  God's  right  hand. 

The  day  grows  lonelier,  the  air 

Hath  waftings  strangely  keen  and  cold,. 
But  woven  in.  Oh,  glad,  Oh,  rare. 

What  love-notes  from  the  hills  of  goldl 


340  "PRACTICE   WHAT  YOU   KNOW." 

Dear  crowding  faces  gathered  there, 
Dear  blessed  tasks  that  wait  our  hand, 

What  joy,  what  pleasure  shall  we  share, 
Safe  anchored  in  the  one  home-land! 

Close  up,  O  comrades,  close  the  ranks, 

Press  onward,  waste  no  fleeting  hour! 
Beyond  the  outworks,  lo!  the  banks 

Of  that  full  tide,  where  life  hath  power, 
And  Satan  lieth  under  foot. 

And  sin  is  killed,  even  at  the  root. 
Close  up,  close  fast  the  wavering  line. 

Ye  who  are  led  by  One  divine. 
The  day  grows  lonelier  apace. 

But  heaven  shall  be  our  trysting  place. 


"  Practice  What  You  Know." 

"  And  it  came  to  pass,  that,  as  they  went,  they  were  cleansed."  Deliverance 
Cometh  in  the  course  of  obedience.  The  faith  was  adequate  to  the  duty  set  before 
them.  If  the  ten  lepers  had  not  in  a  measure  believed  the)'  had  not  gone  at  all. 
The  desire  to  be  relieved  of  their  dreadful  malady  was  doubtless  a  supreme  long- 
ing. But  they  did  not  stop  at  desire.  The  hope,  perhaps  only  a  possibility  in 
their  minds,  determined  them  to  make  the  venture,  and  immediately  they  acted 
upon  the  Master's  direction.  "  And  it  came  to  pass,  that,  as  they  went,  they  were 
cleansed." 

The  fact  involved  in  this  narrative,  in  as  far  as  it  concerns  personal  duty,  is 
a  simple  but  practical  one.  Its  sphere  is  far-reaching,  extending  to  numerous 
emergencies,  to  every  instance,  indeed,  in  which  the  individual  has  a  part  to  bear, 
and  in  which  the  result  depends  upon  human  conduct.  We  frequently  distinguish 
between  that  which  God  accomplishes  for  us  and  in  us,  without  our  co-operation, 
blessings  which  come  to  us  as  the  sunlight  to  the  earth,  and  those  events  in  which 
He  works  through  our  faculties.  The  illustrations  of  the  latter,  in  the  natural 
world,  are  apparent  on  every  side.  From  the  har\'est  ripening  on  the  hillside,  to 
which  the  plowman  and  sower  have  given  their  toil;  from  the  forces  of  nature,  to 
be  tamed  and  controlled  for  material  ends;  from  mental  faculties  to  be  developed 
through  personal  application;  from  the  rich  resources  of  the  physical  world  to  be 
garnered  for  our  gain  comes  the  lesson,  too  evident  to  require  the  impression  of 


"PRACTICE   WHAT   YOU    KNOW."  341 

words,  that  these  shall  be  to  our  advantage  just  to  the  extent  that  we  employ  our' 
powers  in  co-operation  with  Providence. 

Our  Saviour  gave  to  this  truth  the  emphasis  of  His  own  method.  He 
demanded  the  exercise  of  force  where  apparently  there  was  no  force.  To  the  man 
whose  right  hand  was  withered  He  said,  "Stretch  forth  thine  hand!  "  To  others, 
from  whom  faith  seemed  impracticable,  He  said,  ' '  According  to  your  faith  be  it 
unto  you."  "  Believest  thou  that  I  am  able  to  do  this?  "  No  resistful conscious- 
ness of  impotence,  in  those  who  came  to  Him  for  help,  was  permitted  to  defeat  the 
infinite  wisdom  of  the  arrangement  by  which  men  are  yet  to  participate  in  the 
benefits  of  His  grace. 

Very  wise  was  the  advice  given  by  an  experienced  Christian  who,  in  his 
religion,  as  in  other  things,  was  accustomed  to  exercise  his  common  sense.  A 
young  man,  in  the  days  when  it  was  beginning  to  be  deemed  a  token  of  profanity 
to  question,  and  to  magnify  doubt,  was  speaking  to  an  admiring  circle  of  the  difii- 
culty  to  understand  and  reconcile  certain  doctrines  of  revelation.  It  appeared  to 
him  to  justify  his  delay  to  become  a  Christian,  if  not  to  dismiss  the  whole  matter 
as  one  of  no  personal  concern.  With  ill-concealed  impatience  the  veteran  heard 
him  through,  and  then  said:  "Young  man,  practice  what  you  know,  practice 
what  you  know;  when  you  have  done  all  that  you  know,  you  may  begin  to  spec- 
ulate in  mysteries."  Had  the  counsel  been  followed,  probably  the  occasion  to 
question  never  would  have  recurred. 

Our  Saviour  has  said:  "  If  any  man  will  do  His  will  (the  Father's)  he  shall 
know  of  the  doctrine."  It  is  as  true  that  obedience  in  every  other  duty  will 
bring  conviction  and  will  verify  the  truth  of  the  Divine  promises.  Without  corre- 
sponding action,  aspiration  is  worthless  sentiment,  a  self-persuasion  of  interest 
where  no  sincere  interest  exists.  Believing  and  doing  go  hand  in  hand.  Knowl- 
edge and  obedience  are  twin  spirits.  We  are  taught  in  order  that  we  may  do; 
else  all  our  knowledge  is  vanity.  Upon  these,  in  their  just  relation,  hangs  the 
entire  system  of  morals  and  religion.  Irreligion  divorces  them;  for  sin  is  always 
separative.  It  divides  the  heart  from  God.  It  renders  acquaintance  with  the 
truth  unfruitful.  It  makes  our  own  inclination  the  standard  of  what  is  to  be 
done,  what  left  undone,  and  conforms  the  life  to  that  which  is  pleasing  to  self. 
Knowledge  in  such  a  case  informs  the  soul,  but  does  not  stimulate  to  duty.  It  is 
an  aurora  flash,  light  without  heat,  or,  as  the  cold  beams  of  the  moon,  a  reflec- 
tion from  a  frozen  heart. 

Therefore  the  Great  Teacher  always  couples  hearing  and  doing,  believing  and 
obeying,  and  attaches  the  responsibility  which  knowledge  owes  to  every  sphere  in 
which  it  is  present.  "He  that  heareth  my  words,  and  doeth  them."  "  If  ye 
know  these  things,  happy  are  ye  if  ye  do  them. "  "If  any  man  love  me,  he  will  keep 
my  commandments."     Going  forward  in  the  way  of  Christ's  command   gave 


342 


"PRACTICE   WHAT  YOU   KNOW. 


healing  to  the  lepers.  It  could  not  be  otherwise.  The  command  involves  the  end. 
It  pledges  the  saving  grace.  "  He  that  believeth  shall  not  be  confounded."  That 
which  withstands  our  spiritual  peace  and  progress  is  merely  the  failure  to  obey; 
for  all  the  promises  of  God  are  yea  and  amen  in  Christ  Jesus. 

We  perceive  at  once  how  applicable  this  truth  in  the  spiritual  realm.  What 
numbers  fail  to  get  beyond  the  point  of  desire,  desire  for  salvation,  desire  for 
clearer  views  of  their  acceptance,  for  the  assurance  of  their  calling  and  election. 
For  3'ears  they  linger  upon  the  threshold,  and  get  no  farther,  until  at  length  they 
conclude  that  these  things  are  not  for  them.  Some  apprehend  that,  in  a  way 
unknown  to  themselves,  they  may  have  grieved  the  Spirit;  others  allow  themselves 
a  little  comfort  in  the  fact  that  God  must  know  how  intense  is  their  desire,  and 
that  this  may  be  accounted  to  them  for  righteousness. 

Now  no  one  can  overestimate  the  blessedness  of  devout  aspiration.  The 
longing  for  holiness,  for  a  closer  walk  with  God,  is  none  other  than  the  Holy 
Spirit  in  our  hearts,  crying  Abba,  Father.  But  aspiration  that  does  not  seek  oppor- 
tunity and  obey  direction  is  as  forceless  as  the  steam  that  issues  from  the  spout  of 
the  kettle.  Aspiration  condensed  into  purpose  is  the  mighty  power  capable  to 
almost  all  results.  Then  it  becomes  as  the  prayer  that  lays  hold  upon  the  very 
strength  of  God,  pleads  His  promises,  makes  things  invisible  realities  in  posses- 
sion.— Rev.  Edward  P.  Terhinie,  D.  D. 


CHAPTER  XIvVI. 
The  Futility  of  Worry. 

ORRY  is  the  most  wasteful  thing  in  life,  3'et  few  of  us  escape  its 
baleful  effects.  We  lie  awake  in  the  dead  of  night  and  worry 
haunts  us,  stares  us  in  the  face  like  a  ghost  in  the  darkness, 
frets  at  our  hearts,  gnaws  us  like  a  rat  in  the  wainscot,  and 
eats  out  the  very  core  of  our  strength.  And  never  a  bit  of  good 
do  we  get  from  it  when  all  is  said  and  done.  Worry  does  not  make 
your  child  well  when  he  is  ill,  nor  bring  back  safe  to  shore  the  ship  which  is  over- 
due, nor  pay  your  note  in  the  bank,  nor  put  a  new  breadth  in  your  worn  and 
faded  gown,  nor  secure  j'ou  against  a  fall  on  the  ice,  nor  convert  any  soul  from 
the  error  of  his  ways,  nor  do  a  single  thing  of  the  ten  thousand  things  for  which 
we  women  pine  and  sigh,  for  which  our  men,  less  patient  than  we,  storm  about 
the  world,  and  work  till  their  heads  are  gra}'-  and  their  shoulders  are  bowed. 
Worry  sends  people  to  the  insane  asylum,  but  it  never  yet  wrought  a  cure  in 
mental  or  physical  disease.  The  Don't  Worry  Club  of  the  hour  is  a  move  in  the 
right  direction,  only,  my  friend,  j^ou  need  not  join  a  club  to  keep  from  worrj-ing. 
You  can  begin  the  life  of  peace  and  freedom  and  sweetest  composure  and  serenity 
here,  in  your  own  home,  now,  as  you  read  this  page. 

Let  me  give  you  an  old  receipt  for  ease  of  mind  and  poise  of  brain:  '  I  will 
trust  and  not  be  afraid."  Trust  whom  ?  Why,  the  mighty  God,  the  Everlasting 
Father,  and  the  Prince  of  Peace.  The  God  who  says  "As  thy  days  thy  strength 
shall  b2."  The  God  whose  book  is  one  long  train  of  promises,  whose  hand  is  not 
shortened  that  it  cannot  save,  nor  whose  ear  heavy  that  it  cannot  hear.  "  I  will 
trust  and  not  be  afraid,"  and  "What  time  I  am  afraid,  I  will  trust,"  are  texts 
worth  your  laying  up  in  memory  as  most  precious  treasures. 

Look  in  the  Book,  and  see  how  many  times  peace  is  mentioned.  Over  and 
over,  the  Lord  pledges  us  peace,  promises  us  peace.  The  Saviour's  last  gift  to  the 
disciples  He  was  leaving,  was  just  this,  peace,  and  peace  means  freedom  from 
agitation,  freedom  from  fear,  and  freedom  from  worry. 

Don't  worry  about  your  health.  It  might  be  firmer,  it  is  true,  but  rest,  and 
forget  pain,  and  believe  that  it  will  be  better,  because  it  is  the  nature  of  disease  to 
get  well,  and  because  God  is  perfectly  able  to  give  you  the  measure  of  health  you 
need, 

(343) 


^Jf£:A'^' 


(344) 


DOX'T  WORRY,    BROTHKR. 


THE   FUTILITY   OF  WORRY. 


345 


Don't  worry  about  your  children.     You  are  doing  the  best  you  can  for  them, 
and  giving  them  the  best  advantages,  and  you  must  leave  the  future  to  the  dear 


*•  Dou't  worry  about  3'our  health." 

Saviour.     When  you  have  done  your  best  for  your  boys  and  girls,  according  to 
the  light  you  have,  it  is  to  the  last  degree  senseless  and  absurd  to  sit  down  and 


346 


THE   FUTILITY   OF   WORRY. 


grieve  and  lament  and  fume  because  perhaps  some  other  course  would  have  been 
a  better  one. 

Don't  worry  over  business.  It  has  its  fluctuations.  Times  are  .hard  to-day, 
but  courage,  they  will  be  better  to-morrow.  Don't  incur  unnecessary  expense, 
but  keep  within  the  safe  and  narrow  path  of  strictest  honesty.  Live  within  your 
income.  But  if  there  comes  a  period  of  calamity,  if  days  of  disaster  overtake 
you,  still  do  not  worry.  It  won't  help,  and  it  will  hinder,  and  it  will  make  j'ou 
less  able  to  meet  the  evil  day,  than  you  will  be  if  you  will  maintain  j'onr  composure. 

Don't  worr}^  over  the  length  of  your  life;  you  will  live  long  enough  to  do 
whatever  tasks  the  Lord  has  appointed  you ;  in  fact,  you  cannot  die  while  God  has 
anything  in  this  world  for  ^-ou  to  do. 

Because  in  a  day  of  my  days  to  come 

There  waiteth  a  grief  to  be, 
Shall  my  heart  grow  faint  and  my  lips  be  dumb 

In  this  day  that  is  bright  for  me? 

Nay,  phantom  ill  with  the  warning  hand, 

Naj-,  sense  of  impending  ill, 
I  am  traveling  on  to  my  Father's  land 

And  His  grace  is  with  me  still. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 
Our  Dear  Ones  Gone. 

"There  is  no  flock  however  watched  and  tended 
But  one  dead  lamb  is  there; 
There  is  no  household  howsoe'er  defended 
But  has  one  vacant  chair." 

5B?^ENDERLY  familiar  these  sweet  lines  of  America's  dearest  house- 
hold poet  recur  to  memory  whenever  we  think  of  our  dear  ones 
^     gone.     Few  households  there    are   which    do  not   show  missing 
darlings  from  the  fireside   group;   few  families  have  the  felicity 
of  maintaining  an   unbroken  circle  from  childhood  to  maturity. 
Hearts  must  know  loss  as  well  as  gain  in  this  world,  and  most  of  us 
understand  only   too  well  what  it  is  to  mourn  "for  the  touch  of  a 
vanished  hand,  and  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still." 

When  a  bab}^  dies  unthinking  friends  and  acquaintances  are  very  apt  to 
minimize  the  grief  of  the  event,  saying:  "  Oh!  it  is  only  the  baby!  "  On/y,  as  if 
a  grave  a  span  long  could  not  blot  the  very  heavens  with  blackness  and  shut  out 
the  glory  from  the  sky,  and  crush  the  father's  heart  and  almost  break  the 
mother's.  For,  when  a  baby  dies,  it  isn't  only  to-day  you  bury,  it  is  to-morrow 
and  to-morrow,  and  next  year,  and  twenty  3'ears  to  come.  A  thousand 
possibilities  are  bound  up  in  a  baby,  whether  it  be  a  man-child  who  shall 
carry  on  the  old  name  and  represent  the  family  in  the  daj^sto  be,  and  stand  in  his 
father's  room,  and  reign  in  his  father's  stead,  or  a  woman-child,  whose  fair  face 
and  sweet  grace  shall  repeat  the  beauty  of  her  mother  before  her,  and  make  blithe 
the  home,  and  proud  the  kindred.  The  dust  falls  on  the  tiny  coffin,  and  the 
parents  plant  violets  on  the  sod,  and  go  home  to  their  desolate  house,  where  the 
very  silence  aches. 

After  a  while  comfort  will  come  in  the  remembrance  that  God  knows  best, 
that  God  always  cares,  that  the  child  is  safe  and  sheltered  with  the  All-loving 
Father.     But  there  must  be  time  before  the  bereft  can  realize  this  in  its  fullness. 

When  a  mother  dies,  or  a  father,  when  a  grown-up  son  is  suddenly  snatched 
away,  when  any  terrible  weight  of  anguish  falls  on  the  household,  for  a  season  we 
are  benumbed.  We  cannot  understand  how  life  can  go  on;  we  are  beside  ourselves 
with  the  wonder  and  amazement  of  the  shock. 

(347) 


(348) 


THK   DEAD   CHII^D   TO    HRAVENI^Y   RE.ST. 


OUR    DEAR   ONES    GONE.  349 

But  why  do  we  drop  out  of  the  speech  of  the  family  the  beloved  name? 
Why  do  we  shrink  from  any  mention  of  her  who  was  our  daily  joy,  of  him  whose 
very  presence  was  to  us  an  unspeakable  benediction  ?  Are  we  not  weak  and  foolish, 
and  in  a  waj'  unj  ust  to  the  dead  when  we  so  treat  them  ? 

Do  you  recollect  Rossetti's  lyric  about  the  blessed  damozel  who  looked  out 
over  the  gold  bar  of  heaven  ?  It  seemed  to  her  she  had  been  one  day  in  that  glory; 
to  those  she  had  left  below  it  was  ten  long  years. 

"  The  wonder  had  not  yet  quite  gone 
From  that  still  look  of  hers." 

When  there  has  been  a  death  in  a  family  it  is  customary  for  intimate  friends 
to  call  and  express  sympathy  at  once.     Others  send  cards  or  letters  of  condolence. 

"  As  for  the  coffin,  it  is  simpler  than  formerly;  and,  while  lined  with  satin  and 
made  with  care,  it  is  plain  on  the  outside — black  cloth,  with  silver  plate  for  the 
name,  and  silver  handles,  being  in  the  most  modern  taste.  There  are  but  few  of 
the  '  trappings  of  woe. '  At  the  funeral  of  General  Grant,  twice  a  president, 
and  regarded  as  the  savior  of  his  country,  there  was  a  gorgeous  catafalque  of 
purple  velvet,  but  at  the  ordinary  funeral  there  are  none  of  these  trappings.  If 
our  richest  citizen  were  to  die  to-morrow,  he  would  probably  be  buried  plainly. 
Yet  it  is  touching  to  see  with  what  fidelity  the  poorest  creature  tries  to  '  bury  her 
dead  dacent. '  The  destitute  Irish  woman  begs  for  a  few  dollars  for  this  sacred 
dut)^  and  seldom  in  vain.  It  is  a  duty  for  the  rich  to  put  down  ostentation  in 
funerals,  for  it  is  an  expense  which  comes  heavily  on  those  who  have  poverty 
added  to  grief. 

' '  In  dressing  the  remains  for  the  grave,  those  of  a  man  are  usually  '  clad  in 
his  habit  as  he  lived.'  For  a  woman  tastes  differ:  a  white  robe  and  cap, 
not  necessarily  shroudlike,  are  decidedly  unexceptionable.  For  young  persons 
and  children  white  cashmere  robes  and  flowers  are  always  most  appropriate." 

The  days  immediately  following  a  death  in  the  family  are  more  or  less  filled 
with  excitement.  Arrangements  must  be  made  for  the  funeral  and  the  interment, 
perhaps  mourning  must  be  procured  in  haste,  and  relatives  who  live  in  other 
places  arrive  and  must  be  entertained.  The  blank,  cold  loss  does  not  settle  down 
on  a  home  until  the  return  from  the  cemetery.  Then,  the  absence  of  the  dear 
one,  the  desolation  of  the  house,  and  the  strange  solitude  of  it  all  are  terribly 
poignant. 

It  is  an  open  question  which  is  the  harder  to  bear,  a  sudden  death,  or  one 
which  is  the  close  of  a  wasting  sickness.  The  first  is  no  doubt  easier  to  the  one 
who  goes,  than  is  the  second.  To  be  well  and  strong  and  busy  to  the  very  latest 
moment,  then  to  slip  softly  and  swiftly  out  of  this  life  into  the  next,  with  no 
instant's  loss  of    conciousness,    could    anything    on  earth  be  more    desirable, 


350  OUR   DEAR  ONES   GONE. 

when  God  is  ready  to  call  His  servant  to  heaven  ?  But,  such  a  death  is  a  great 
shock  to  survivors  who  have  no  preparation  to  encounter  it.  When  they  have 
watched  by  a  dear  one's  bed,  and  seen  the  breath  ebb  faintly  away  and  cease,  they 
are  grieved  but  not  stunned. 

Mourning  is  a  matter  of  taste  and  is  to  some  extent  regulated  by  arbitrary 
rules.     Mrs.  John  Sherwood,  in  "  Manners  and  Social  Usages,"  says: 

"  For  the  first  six  months  the  dress  of  a. widow  should  be  of  crape  cloth,  or 
Henrietta  cloth  covered  entirely  with  crape,  collar  and  cuflfs  of  white  crape,  a 
crape  bonnet  with  a  long  crape  veil,  and  a  widows'  cap  of  white  crape  if 
preferred.  In  America,  however,  widow's  caps  are  not  as  universally  worn  as  in 
England.  Dull  black  kid  gloves  are  worn  in  first  mourning;  after  that  g-a?ifs  de 
Suede  or  silk  gloves  are  proper,  particularly  in  summer.  After  six  months' 
mourning  the  crape  can  be  removed,  and  grenadine,  copeau  fringe,  and  dead 
trimmings  used.  After  twelve  months  the  widow's  cap  is  left  off,  and  the  heavy 
veil  is  exchanged  for  a  lighter  one,  and  the  dress  can  be  of  silk  grenadine,  plain 
black  gros-grain,  or  crape-trimmed  cashmere  with  jet  trimmings,  and  crepe  lisse 
about  the  neck  and  sleeves. 

'  *  All  kinds  of  black  fur  and  seal-skin  are  worn  in  deep  mourning. 

"  Mourning  for  a  father  or  mother  should  last  one  year.  During  half  a  j^ear 
should  be  worn  Henrietta  cloth  or  serge  trimmed  with  crape,  at  first  with  black 
tulle  at  the  wrists  and  neck.  A  deep  veil  is  worn  at  the  back  of  the  bonnet,  but 
not  over  the  head  or  face  like  the  widow's  veil,  which  covers  the  entire  person 
when  down.  This  fashion  is  very  much  objected  to  b}'  doctors,  who  think  many 
diseases  of  the  eye  come  by  this  means,  and  advise  for  common  use  thin  nun's- 
veiling  instead  of  crape,  which  sheds  its  pernicious  dye  into  the  sensitive  nostrils, 
producing  catarrhal  diseas^  as  well  as  blindness  and  cataract  of  the  eye.  It  is  a 
thousand  pities  that  fashion  dictates  the  crape  veil,  but  so  it  is.  It  is  the  very 
banner  of  woe,  and  very  few  have  the  courage  to  go  without  it.  We  can  only 
suggest  to  mourners  wearing  it  that  they  should  pin  a  small  veil  of  black  tulle 
over  the  eyes  and  nose,  and  throw  back  the  heavy  crape  as  often  as  possible,  for 
health's  sake. 

' '  Jet  ornaments  alone  should  be  worn  for  eighteen  months,  unless  diamonds 
set  as  mementoes  are  used.  For  half-mourning,  a  bonnet  of  silk  or  chip,  trimmed 
with  crape  and  ribbon.  Mourning  flowers,  and  crepe  lisse  at  the  hands  and 
wrists,  lead  the  way  to  gray,  mauve,  and  white-and-black  toilettes  after  the 
second  year. 

' '  Mourning  for  a  brother  or  sister  may  be  the  same ;  for  a  stepfather  or  step- 
mother the  same;  for  grandparents  the  same;  but  the  duration  may  be  shorter. 
In  England  this  sort  of  respectful  mourning  only  lasts  three  months." 

For  children,  mourning  is  worn  for  nine  months,  though  many  women  have 
not  the  wish  to  remove  it  at  the  end  of  so  brief  a  period. 


OUR   DEAR   ONES   GONE.  351 

In  wearing  mourning,  or  the  reverse,  one  should  be  independent.  The 
person  who  elects  to  go  without  it  misses  the  shelter  and  sanctuary  it  affords  her 
at  first.  People  not  aware  of  her  loss,  or  forgetful  of  it,  treat  her  with  a  lightness 
and  lack  of  compassion,  to  which  her  sombre  robes  would  entitle  her.  On  the 
other  hand  it  is  often  a  very  serious  expense  for  a  woman  whose  means  are 
limited  to  go  into  mourning,  and  her  example  is  followed  by  other  poor  women  to 
whom  it  means  both  debt  and  anxiety.  The  rich  and  well-to-do  may  deny  them- 
selves the  luxury  of  mourning  for  the  sake  of  those  whose  purses  will  not  endure 
so  great  an  outlay. 

Flowers  are  sent  to  the  house  of  mourning  and  to  funerals  in  testimony  of 
our  sincere  regret.  There  is  no  particular  sentiment  in  large  and  costly  set  pieces, 
doves  surmounting  broken  columns,  gates  ajar,  pillows  on  which  legends  are 
written.  A  few  flowers,  long-stemmed  and  fragrant,  a  palm  branch,  a  sheaf  tied 
with  white  ribbon,  a  cluster  of  lilies,  a  simple  wreath,  have  each  and  all  a  signifi- 
cance bej'ond  that  of  mere  display.  I  have  seen  a  cofiin  covered  with  a  pall  of 
purple  violets,  and  a  grave  lined  with  roses.  These  were  tokens  of  sorrow,  which 
children  displayed  at  the  burial  of  their  parents. 

In  recent  fiction  there  is  no  tenderer  scene  than  the  description  by  Ian 
MacLaren  of  the  funeral  of  Doctor  Maclure  in  "  The  Bonny  Brier  Bush."  The 
snow  lies  deep  and  white  in  the  glen,  the  drifts  are  high,  the  wind  is  cold.  But 
the  shepherds,  the  farmers  and  the  lord  of  the  manor  make  nothing  of  the  winter 
nor  the  tempest.  They  attend  the  good  man's  funeral,  follow  him  to  his  grave,, 
and  stand  bareheaded  while  the  minister  prays. 

"  The  while  my  pulses  faintly  beat, 
My  faith  doth  so  abound, 
I  feel  grow  firm  beneath  my  feet 
The  green,  immortal  ground." 

So,  anticipating  the  hour  of  her  departure,  sang  dear  Alice  Gary,  her  straia 
akin  to  that  triumphal  hymn  of  her  sister  Phoebe,  familiar  to  us  all: 

"  One  sweetly  solemn  thought 
Comes  to  me  o'er  and  o'er, 
I'm  nearer  my  home  in  heaven  to-day 
Than  ever  I've  been  before. 

"  Nearer  the  bound  of  life. 
Laying  my  burdens  down, 
Nearer  leaving  the  cross. 
Nearer  wearing  the  crown." 

Christina  Rossetti,  in  a  poem  on  Good  Friday,  exclaims: 


352  OUR   DEAR   ONES   GONE. 

"  Am  I  a  stone,  and  not  a  sheep, 
That  I  can  stand,  O  Christ,  beneath  Thy  cross, 
To  number  drop  by  drop  Thy  blood's  slow  loss, 
And  yet  not  weep  ? 

"  Not  so  those  women  loved. 
Who  with  exceeding  grief  lamented  Thee, 
Not  so  fallen  Peter,  weeping  bitterly. 
Not  so  the  thief  was  moved." 

In  Bishop  Westcott's  remarkable  bopk,  "The  Revelation  of  the  Risen  Lord," 
he  dwells  on  the  return  of  the  Master  after  the  three  days  in  the  grave,  the  same 
yet  different,  and  shows  b)^  a  convincing  argument  from  the  Scriptures  how  the 
"  thought  of  that  life,  of  that  Providence,  of  that  presence,  of  that  communion,  of 
that  mystery  of  pain,  has  passed  into  the  world  and  become  part. of  the  heritage  of 
mankind. ' '  Good  Friday  and  Easter  belong  to  us  and  are  our  treasures  beyond 
price.     The  old  hymn  sung  by  God's  people  for  centuries  cries  out  exultingly: 

"  He  who  bore  all  pain  and  loss 
Comfortless  upon  the  cross, 
Lives  in  glory  now  on  high. 
Pleads  for  us  and  hears  our  cry." 

The  very  core  of  the  Easter  consolation  is  in  that  simple  line,  "  Pleads  for  us 
and  hears  our  cry."  For  our  Christ  is  the  Lord  of  the  living,  alone  able  to  say, 
"  I  am  He  that  liveth  and  was  dead,  and  behold,  I  am  alive  forevermore. "  The 
Easter  music,  the  Easter  flowers,  the  Easter  joy  are  comprehended  in  that  state- 
ment that  our  Brother,  our  Redeemer,  our  Master,  daily  sees  our  needs  and 
daily  presents  our  prayers  and  pleads  for  us,  too,  and  never  a  moment  of  any  da}- 
forgets  one  of  us  whom  He  loves. 

Easter  is  to  Christmas  as  the  flower  to  the  bud.  Between  the  two  great  holy 
days  there  stretches  the  whole  of  the  Christ-life  on  the  earth,  the  healing  of  the 
sick,  the  giving  of  sight  to  the  blind,  the  going  about  on  the  hills  and  through 
the  vales  of  Galilee,  the  words  He  spoke,  the  deeds  He  did,  from  the  hour  that 
His  ministry  began  until  He  cried,  "It  is  finished,"  upon  Calvary.  The  most 
amazing  period  in  the  story  of  time,  those  three  years  in  which  God  tabernacled 
in  human  flesh,  is  commemorated  in  two  small  places,  Bethlehem  and  Easter — the 
one  with  the  star-beam,  the  other  with  the  day-dawn,  the  one  with  those  who 
worshiped  at  the  cradle,  the  other  with  those  who  sought  the  garden  tomb,  and 
both  with  the  help  and  song  of  the  angelic  visitors  who  came  to  serve  their  Lord. 

In  Bunyan's  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  there  is  a  passage  which  I  think  especially 
suitable  to  the  Eastertide.  Christian  and  his  fellow-pilgrim,  Hopeful,  have 
arrived  at  the  gate  over  which  is  written,  in  letters  of  gold,  "  Blessed  are  they  that 


AN   EASTER   IDYL.  353 

do  His  commandments,  that  they  may  have  right  to  the  tree  of  life,  and  may  enter 
in  through  the  gates  into  the  city."  And  as,  at  the  word  of  the  King,  they 
entered  in  and  were  transfigured,  there  were  those  that  met  them  with  harps  to 
praise  withal,  and  with  crowns  in  token  of  honor.  Then,  says  Bunyan,  ' '  I  heard 
in  my  dream  that  all  the  bells  in  the  city  rang  again  for  joy,  and  that  it  was  said 
unto  them,  '  Enter  ye  into  the  joy  of  your  lyord.'  "  One  more  radiant  glimpse  is 
vouchsafed  to  the  dreamer,  and  he  adds,  ' '  After  that  they  shut  up  the  gates, 
which  when  I  had  seen  I  wished  myself  among  them." 

The  comfort  of  Easter  is  largely  in  the  closer  union  it  gives  us  with  heaven. 
A  great  company  of  our  friends  and  kindred  are  there.  For  some  of  us  the 
number  on  the  other  side  is  much  in  excess  of  the  number  here.  And  Christ  is 
there,  the  Christ  of  Nazareth,  of  Galilee,  and  of  this  waning  century  and  this 
country  of  ours  as  well.  Often  we  are  amazed  at  our  insensibility  to  the  suffering 
Christ.  Often  we  are  vexed  at  our  lack  of  loyalty  to  the  reigning  Christ.  Yet 
there  are  days  when  the  stony  hearts  melt  and  we  have  throbbing  hearts  of  flesh. 
There  are  days  when  our  love  goes  joyously  out  to  greet  our  King.  And  ever- 
more, not  at  Eastertide  only  but  in  all  tides  of  time, 

' '  He  who  bore  our  pain  and  loss  ' ' 

lives  for  our  redemption. 


An  Easter  Idyl. 

Many  a  j-ear  the  Easter  came,  laughing  o'er  land  and  sea. 
Wafting  the  perfume  of  lilies  wherever  its  dawn  light  fell, 

Kindling  the  flames  of  the  roses,  and  waving  their  torches  free. 
Far  over  hill  and  mountain,  and  deep  in  the  lonesome  dell. 

And  many  a  year  at  Easter  I  sat  in  the  old  church  loft. 

And  lifted  my  voice  in  Te  Deums,  and  sang  like  a  mavis  clear, 

Sang  of  glory  and  triumph,  and  my  voice  thrilled  sweet  and  soft, 
Oh  !  many  a  time  in  the  Easter  of  many  a  cloudless  year. 

Till  there  fell  a  season  of  anguish,  when  the  stars  went  out  in  the  sky, 
When  I  covered  my  face,  and  bent  my  knees,  and  beat  with  a  hopeless  prayer 

At  the  golden  gates  of  heaven  that  were  shut  to  my  bitter  cry. 

While  the  Angel  of  Death  at  my  threshold  was  deaf  to  my  love's  despair. 

Then,  straight  on  that  wild,  bleak  winter  there  followed  the  fairest  spring. 
With  snowdrops  and  apple  blossoms  in  riotous  haste  to  bloom, 

With  the  sudden  note  of  the  robin,  and  the  flash  of  the  bluebird's  wing 
And  all  that  was  mine  of  its  beauty  was  the  turf  that  covered  a  tomb. 
23 


354  I'HE   SWEET,  LONG   DAYS. 

Oh  !  the  bells  rang  out  for  Easter,  rang  strong  and  sweet  and  shrill, 
And  the  organ's  rolling  thunder  pealed  through 'the  long  church  aisle, 

And  the  children  fluttered  with  flowers,  and  I  sat  mute  and  still, 
I,  who  had  clean  forgotten  both  how  to  pray  and  to  smile. 

And  I  murmured  in  fierce  rebellion  :   "  There  is  naught  that  endures  below, 
Naught  but  the  lamentations  that  are  rent  from  souls  in  pain;" 

And  the  joy  of  the  Easter  music,  it  struck  on  my  ears  like  a  blow. 
For  I  knew  that  my  day  was  over,  I  could  never  be  glad  again  ! 

And  then — ^how  it  happened  I  know  not — there  was  One  in  my  sight  who  stood, 
And  lo  !  on  His  brow  was  the  thorn-print,  in  His  hands  were  the  nails'  rough 
scars, 

And  the  shadow  that  lay  before  Him  was  the  shade  of  the  holy  rood. 

But  the  glow  in  His  ej^es  was  deeper  than  the  light  of  the  morning  stars. 

"  Daughter,"  He  said,  "  have  comfort !     Arise  !  keep  Eastertide  ! 

I,  for  thy  sins  who  suffered  and  died  on  the  cruel  tree, 
I,  who  was  dead,  am  living;  no  evil  shall  e'er  betide 

Those  who,  beyond  or  waiting,  are  pledged  unto  life  with  Me." 

Now  I  wake  to  a  holier  Easter,  happier  than  of  old. 

And  again  my  voice  is  lifted  in  Te  Deums  sweet  and  strong; 

I  send  it  to  join  the  anthem  in  the  wonderful  city  of  gold, 

Where  the  hymns  of  the  ransomed  forever  are  timed  to  the  Easter  song. 

And  I  can  be  glad  with  the  gladness  that  is  born  of  a  perfect  peace; 

On  the  strength  of  the  Strong  I  am  resting;  I  know  that  His  will  is  best. 
And  who  that  has  found  that  secret  from  darkness  has  won  release, 

And  even  in  sorrow's  exile  may  lift  up  her  eyes  and  be  blessed. 


The  Sweet,  Long  Days. 

The  sweet,  long  days  when  the  morning  breaks 

Over  the  mountains  in  rose  and  gold. 
When  the  shadows  linger  on  vale  and  lakes 

And  the  afterglow  tints  field  and  wold. 
The  summer  days  when  the  pasture  land 

Lies  dappled  with  daisies  beneath  the  sun, 
When  the  waves  wash  up  on  the  pebbly  strand, 

And  the  little  ripples  leap  and  run. 


THE   SWEET,  LONG   DAYS. 


355 


THE   PASTURE  lyAND. 

The  sweet,  long  days  when  the  children  play 

Merrj'  and  sweet  as  the  day  is  long. 
Driving  the  cows,  and  tossing  the  hay, 

And  singing  many  a  snatch  of  song. 
When  mother  is  busy  from  morn  till  eve, 

And  father  is  earning  the  children's  bread; 
In  every  task  when  a  prayer  they  weave 

For  blessings  to  rest  on  each  little  head. 


356  OUR   LOST. 

The  sweet,  long  days  when  though  trouble  ma)-  come, 

We  bear  the  trouble  in  trustful  cheer, 
'^     For  ever  in  God  is  our  constant  home, 

A  refuge  and  shelter  from  grief  and  fear. 
The  sweet,  long  days  which  our  Father  sends, 

Foretaste  and  pattern  of  days  to  be,  ^ 

In  the  time  when  the  measure  by  days  shall  end,  ^ 

On  the  fadeless  shore  of  the  Crystal  Sea. 


Our  Lost. 


They  never  quite  leave  us,  our  friends  who  have  passed 
Through  the  shadows  of  death  to  the  sunlight  above; 

A  thousand  sweet  memories  are  holding  them  fast 

To  the  places  they  blessed  with  their  presence  and  love. 

The  work  which  they  left  and  the  books  which  they  read 
Speak  mutely,  though  still  with  an  eloquence  rare. 

And  the  songs  that  they  sung,  and  dear  words  that  they  said, 
Yet  linger  and  sigh  on  the  desolate  air. 

And  oft  when  alone,  and  as  oft  in  the  throng, 
Or  when  evil  allures  us  or  sin  draweth  nigh, 

A.  whisper  comes  gently,  "  Nay,  do  not  the  wrong," 
And  we  feel  that  our  weakness  is  pitied  on  high. 

In  the  dew-threaded  morn  and  the  opaline  eve. 

When  the  children  are  merry  or  crimsoned  with  sleep, 

We  are  confronted,  even  as  lonely  we  grieve. 

For  the  thought  of  their  rapture  forbids  us  to  weep. 

We  toil  at  our  tasks  in  the  burden  and  heat 

Of  life's  passionate  noon.     They  are  folded  in  peace. 

It  is  well.     We  rejoice  that  their  heaven  is  sweet. 
And  one  day  for  us  will  all  bitterness  cease. 


OUR  LOST. 


357 


We,  too,  will  go  home  o'er  the  river  of  rest. 

As  the  throng  and  the  lovely  before  us  have  gone; 

Our  sun  will  go  down  in  the  beautiful  west, 
To  rise  in  the  glory  that  circles  the  throne. 

Until  then  we  are  bound  by  our  love  and  our  faith 
To  the  saints  who  are  walking  in  Paradise  fair. 

They  have  passed  beyond  sight,  at  the  touching  of  death, 
But  they  live,  like  ourselves,  in  God's  infinite  care. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

The  Sunshiny  Household. 

kUNSHINE  saves  the  world.     If  you  want  to  kill  a  plant  or  a  human 

r^     being  you  need  only  shut  either  up  in  a  crypt  and  rob  it  of  the 

life-giving  influences  of  heat  and  light.     No  wonder  that  in  all 

ages  by  stairways  of  sunbeams  our  thoughts  have  climbed  to 

heaven;  no  wonder  that  men,  ignorantly  seeking  a  God  to  worship 

yet  knowing  Him  not,  have  found  in  the  sun  His  best  type  and 

symbol.     A  sunshiny  household  is  the  abode  of  good-natured  people. 

It  is  not  the  residence  of  the  churl  or  the  miser,  not  the  home  of  the 

cross  or  the  despotic,  or  the  morbid,  or  the  gloomy.     Only  brightness  and  cheer 

may  dwell  in  the  sunshiny  house. 

The  young  people  in  this  home  are  not  afraid  of  their  father.  His  counte- 
tiance  is  not  frowning  and  repellent,  his  presence  is  no  signal  for  silence.  The 
mother  is  the  queen  of  her  realm,  and  where  she  is  there  can  be  only  pleasure  and 
delight! 

In  the  sunshiuN'  home  the  mother  is  not  crowded  out  by  her  j-oung  folk  from 
her  true  place.  There  are  homes  wherein  the  mother  has  no  rest  to  the  sole  of  her 
foot,  so  aggressive  are  the  juniors.  Elsie  and  her  young  friends  monopolize  the 
parlor,  Louise  and  her  lessons  occupy  the  sitting  room.  Jack  and  his  arithmetic 
and  geography  quite  fill  the  vacant  spaces  in  the  dining  room,  and  mamma  must 
sit  in  her  own  chamber  or  go  to  bed.  Truth  to  tell,  her  own  room  is  not  the  least 
charming  refuge  in  the  household,  for  father  comes  there  to  sit  in  his  old  dressing 
gown  and  shabby  slippers,  Kitty  and  Mamie  would  rather  stay  with  mother  than 
in  their  own  room  or  with  their  sisters,  and  the  mother's  room  is  the  rall5ang  place 
for  the  family  in  their  hours  of  ease  and  enjoyment. 

In  the  sunshiny  household  there  are  certain  stock  stories  which  everybody 
knows,  certain  anecdotes  which  everj'bod}'  enjoys,  certain  allusions  and  reminis- 
cences which  are  part  of  the  general  family  fund,  and  which  they  would  remember 
and  share  though  they  were  divided  by  the  width  of  the  globe. 

The  sunshiny  household  is  a  loyal  one.  The  family  bond  holds.  The  family 
stands  by  its  several  members  and  bj'  its  absent  ones,  and  if  there  be  one  who  has 
ways  and  must  be  protected  that  one  is  surrounded  by  the  rest  and  most  gently 
cared  for.     "The  j'oungest  Miss  Archer,"  said  my  friend,  "  is  not  very  bright 

(358) 


THE   SUNSHINY   HOUSEHOLD.  359 

and  has  a  very  bad  temper."  "  Indeed!  "  I  replied;  "  why  she  seems  to  be  the 
special  favorite."  "  Yes,  they  all  regret  her  infirmity  and  shield  her  from  herself 
and  from  criticism. ' ' 

In  Miss  Muloch's  charming  novel  of  "  Mistress  and  Maid  "  there  are  several 
very  admirable  lessons  for  us,  among  them  the  devotion  of  Miss  I^eaf  and  Miss 
Hilary  to  the  very  fretful  and  irritable  Miss  Selina,  who  had  "  ways."  And  the 
bearing  of  the  sisters  with  their  stupid,  unformed  servant  Elizabeth,  who  develops 
under  the  tutelage  of  love  and  gentleness  into  a  treasure  of  skill,  good  sense  and 
absolute  loyaltj-,  is  worth  our  studying.  Few  women  may  not  derive  help  in  the 
management  of  their  domestics  from  the  perusal  of  this  account  of  Elizabeth 
Hand  and  Miss  Hilary  Leaf. 

Elizabeth  did  not  know  how  to  write  and  the  bright  little  lady,  with  infinite 
pains,  undertook  to  teach  her—  no  easy  task. 

"She  is  stupid  enough,"  Hilary  confessed,  after  the  first  lesson  was  over, 
* '  but  there  is  a  dogged  perseverance  about  the  girl  which  I  actually  admire. ' ' 

"  I  hope  she  will  do  her  work,  anyhow,"  said  Selina,  rather  crossly.  "  I'm 
sure  I  don't  see  the  good  of  wasting  time  over  teaching  Elizabeth  to  write  when 
there's  so  much  to  be  done  in  the  house  by  one  and  all  of  us  from  Monday  morn- 
ing till  Saturday  night." 

Selina,  poor  thing,  was  doomed  always  to  be  the  stumbling-block  in  the 
peace  of  this  family.  When  Hilary  proposed  to  give  Elizabeth  writing  lessons 
on  Sunday,  because  there  really  was  so  little  time  through  the  week,  this  sister 
was  much  offended.  She  opposed  the  plan  as  usual,  vehemently,  and  with  stub- 
born anger,  but  Hilary  interposed  amiably: 

"  I  might  say  that  writing  isn't  Elizabeth's  week-day  work,  and  that  teach- 
ing her  is  not  exactly  doing  my  own  pleasure;  but  I  won't  creep  out  of  the  argu- 
ment by  a  quibble.  The  question  is.  What  is  keeping  the  Sabbath-day  'holy?' 
I  say — and  I  stick  to  my  opinion — that  it  is  by  making  it  a  day  of  worship,  a  rest 
day — a  cheerful  and  happy  day — and  by  doing  as  much  good  in  it  as  we  can;  and, 
therefore,  I  mean  to  teach  Elizabeth  on  a  Sunday." 

"She'll  never  understand  it.     She'll  consider  it  'work.'  " 

"And  if  she  did,  work  is  a  more  religious  thing  than  idleness.  I  am  sure 
I  often  feel  that,  of  the  two,  I  should  be  less  sinful  in  digging  potatoes  in  my  gar- 
den, or  sitting  mending  stockings  in  my  parlor,  than  in  keeping  Sunday  as  some 
people  do — going  to  church  genteelly  in  my  best  clothes,  eating  a  huge  Sunday 
dinner,  and  then  nodding  over  a  good  book,  or  taking  a  regular  Sunday  nap,  till 
bedtime." 

"  Hush,  child  !"  said  Johanna,  reprovingly;  for  Hilary's  cheeks  were  red, 
and  her  voice  angry.  She  was  taking  the  hot,  youthful  part,  which,  in  its  hatred 
of  shams  and  forms,  sometimes  leads  —and  not  seldom  led  poor  Hilary — a  little 


36o  THE  SUNSHINY   HOUSEHOLD. 

too  far  on  the  other  side.  "  I  think,"  Miss  Leaf  added,  "that  our  business  is 
with  ourselves,  and  not  with  our  neighbors.  Let  us  keep  the  Sabbath  according 
to  our  conscience.  Only,  I  would  take  care  never  to  do  anything  which  jarred 
against  my  neighbor's  feelings.  I  would,  like  Paul,  '  eat  no  meat  while  the 
world  standeth'  rather  than  'make  my  brother  to  offend.'  " 

Hilary  looked  in  her  sister's  sweet,  calm  face,  and  the  anger  died  out  of  her 
own. 

"Shall  I  give  up  my  academy  ?"  she  said,  softly. 

"  No,  my  love.  It  is  lawful  to  do  good  on  the  Sabbath  day,  and  teaching  a 
poor  ignorant  girl  to  write  is  an  absolute  good.  Make  her  understand  that,  and 
you  need  not  be  afraid  of  any  harm  ensuing." 

"You  never  will  make  her  understand,"  said  Selina,  sullenly.  "  She  is  only 
a  servant." 

"  Nevertheless,  I'll  try." 

Hilary  could  not  tell  how  far  she  succeeded  in  simplifying  to  the  young  ser- 
vant's comprehension  this  great  question,  involving  so  many  points — such  as  the 
following  of  the  spirit  and  the  letter,  the  law  of  duty  and  the  compulsion  of  love, 
which,  as  she  spoke,  seemed  opening  out  so  widely  and  awfully  that  she  herself 
involuntarily  shrank  from  it,  and  wondered  that  poor,  finite  creatures  should  ever 
presume  to  squabble  about  it  at  all. 

But  one  thing  the  girl  did  understand — her  young  mistress'  kindness.  She 
stood  watching  the  little  delicate  hand  that  had  so  patiently  guided  hers,  and  now 
wrote  copy  after  copy  for  her  future  benefit.     At  last  she  said: 

"  You're  taking  a  deal  o'  trouble  wi'  a  poor  wench,  and  it's  very  kind  in  a 
lady  like  you. ' ' 

The  day  arrived  when  Elizabeth  Hand  more  than  repaid,  full  measure, 
pressed  down  and  running  over,  the  great  kindness  of  Miss  Hilary,  and  this  leads 
me  to  say  that  one  great  element  of  sunshine  in  any  home  is  the  maintenance  of 
cordial  relations  between  the  employer  and  the  employed,  the  mistress  and  the 
serv'^ant  or  servants.  In  our  country  many  women  get  on  very  comfortably  with 
no  help — many  more  keep  one  maid,  others  maintain  an  establishment,  but  these  are 
in  the  minority.  The  household  is  far  from  sunny  where  a  ceaseless  warfare  is 
going  on,  suspicion  on  the  one  side  and  surveillance  on  the  other.  Fair  and  just 
dealing  between  the  two  contracting  parties,  work  clearly  indicated,  and  duties 
precisely  defined,  and  wages  promptly  paid,  v/ith  always  the  recollection  that 
servants  are  human,  will  do  much  toward  keeping  home-life  calm  and  beautiful. 

Parents,  too,  must  observe  that  children  sometimes  fret  at  needless  restraints, 
and  must  not  too  readily  say  no  to  innocent  and  reasonable  desires  for  amusement 
and  pleasure.  Children  grow  up  and  are  beyond  authority  sometimes,  while 
parents  still  fancy  them  in  a  state  of  pupilage.     Hence  may  arise  needless  friction 


THE   SUNSHINY   HOUSEHOI.D. 


361 


and  pain  which  should  never  have  been  allowed  to  creep  into  sensitive  natures. 
Take  short  views.  Make  the  best  of  existing  circumstances.  Envy  no  one. 
Be  not  covetous.  Look  not  every  man  on  his  own  things,  but  every  man  on  the 
things  of  others.     For,  even  Christ  pleased  not  Himself. 

Thinking  of  the  fullest  sunlight  we  must  rise  to  a  higher  level. 

Thank  God  that  in  this  world  of  mingled  experiences  there  comes  to  us  now 
and  then  the  day  when  we  carry  the  full  cup  !  Our  hearts  are  brimmed  with 
gladness,  and  for  the  time  we  forget  that  we  have  had  burdens  to  bear  and  that 


"  You're  taking  a  deal  o'  trouble." 

sorrows  have  set  their  stamp  upon  our  faces.  Out  of  the  shadows  we  emerge  into 
the  sunlight,  our  plans  are  successfully  completed,  our  hopes  are  fulfilled,  our 
homes  are  delightful,  our  way  is  smooth  and  straight  before  us— it  is  our  happy 
day  of  victory  and  of  joy. 

But  we  do  not  need  to  be  reminded  that  it  takes  a  steady  hand  to  carry  a  full 
cup.  We  are  in  danger  of  slipping,  of  stumbling,  of  becoming  over-confident 
and  heedless  in  the  elation  which  naturally  follows  a  signal  triumph  or  an  unex- 
pected accession  of  good  fortune.     Many  a  man  has  been  saintly  in  reverses  who 


362  THE   SUNSHINY   HOUSEHOLD. 

grows  arrogant  and  arbitrary  in  his  period  of  success,  and  pov^erty  is  less  trying 
to  the  spiritual  life  than  wealth.  The  full  cup  requires  special  grace  that  none  of 
its  sweetness  be  changed  to  bitterness,  that  its  possessor  remain  loving  and  xuiselfish, 
that  about  its  silver  rim  may  be  wreathed  the  white  blossoms  of  faith  and  charity. 
In  the  day  of  adversity  consider,  was  written  by  one  of  old.  Equally  iu  the  day 
of  prosperity  should  we  draw  near  to  the  throne,  keeping  our  eyes  fixed  on  the 
kindly  face  of  the  Master,  endeavoring  more  than  ever  to  do  His  will  in  our 
hours  of  freedom,  ease  and  contentment,  making  our  very  happiness  a  votive- 
offering  at  His  feet. 

God  never  gives  to  man  or  woman  the  full  cup,  except  that  he  or  she  may 
make  of  it  a  benediction.  All  the  rivers  run  into  the  sea.  All  through  nature 
there  is  continual  giving  in  return  for  constant  receiving.  When  the  cup  is  full, 
it  is  so  that  it  may  overflow  in  kindness  and  abundant  blessedness  upon  others, 
itself  then  being  replenished,  like  the  horn  of  Thor,  from  an  inexhaustible  foun- 
tain. There  are  alwaj's  opportunities  of  service  for  those  who  have  the  will  and 
the  ability  to  accept  them,  and  so  no  one  need  stand  helplessly  holding  a  full  cup  in 
hand,  wondering  what  God's  meaning  is  and  what  would  best  be  done  for  His 
praise. 

In  our  own  household  there  may  be  a  dear  one,  a  child  perhaps,  who  is  mis- 
understood, an  invalid  to  whom  weary  days  are  appointed,  an  aged^one  who  is  in 
sore  need  of  ministries  of  affection,  or  a  servant  who  is  homesick  in  a  strange  land, 
a  veritable  stranger  within  our  gates.  To  any  or  all  of  these  our  appointed  work 
may  be  to  give  of  our  store  of  gladness. 

Always  we  should  begin  with  our  Christian  work  at  the  Jerusalem  of  our  own 
homes,  but  from  thence  we  should  broaden  out  in  ever- widening  circles  of  kind- 
ness and  love.  A  neighbor,  a  friend,  a  mission  near  us,  an  orphanage  or  a  hos- 
pital, may  be  the  better  for  our  conscientious  care.  One  cannot  he  sure  that  a 
tangible  gift,  as  of  money  or  service,  is  the  only  thing  required.  A  "gift  without 
the  giver  is  bare,"  and  she  who  bestows  onlj'  alms,  without  personal  interest  and 
affection  added  thereto,  does  not  carr\'  out  God's  intention  when  He  puts  in  her 
hand  the  full  cup  of  revenue,  of  success,  or  of  earthly  bliss  in  any  of  its  innumer- 
able forms. 

I  know  a  beautiful  woman  who  has  never  in  her  life  had  anything  to  give 
except  the  overflowing  grace  and  friendliness  of  a  beautiful  and  consecrated  soul. 
This  soul,  a  temple  for  the  indwelling  Christ,  glows  in  her  lovely  face,  thrills  in 
her  invariably  sincere  and  gentle  speech,  and  makes  a  visit  to  her  or  from  her  a 
rare  and  uplifting  delight.  Her  cup  is  ever  full,  because  she  is  innately  happy, 
because  she  accepts  without  a  murmur  all  of  God's  appointments,  and  bears,  with 
unbroken  serenity,  every  care  and  burden  which  comes  to  her  from  His  hand. 
One  is  truly  living  the  blessed  life  who  has  attained  to  that  condition  where  a 


AT  THE   PARTING   OF  THE   WAYS.  363 

consciousness  of  heaven  pervades  one's  mortal  days.     This  is  to  have  a  cup  of 
perennial  fullness,  even  when  the  skies  are  darkened. 

'Tis  but  the  meagre  crust,  love, 

'Tis  but  the  scanty  cup. 
On  homely  fare  we  breakfast, 

On  homely  fare  we  sup. 

Never  mind  !  When  the  King  meets  us  on  the  road  and  condescends  to  our 
fare  it  becomes  a  royal  feast,  and  the  supply  of  heavenly  manna  is  pledged  never 
to  fail  the  pilgrim  who  accepts  the  old  conditions  and  is  fain  to  gather  just  enough 
each  day  for  that  day's  demand. 

You  see  we  cannot  expect  that  the  full  cup  shall  always  be  ours.  It  may 
come  to  pass,  because  it  is  God's  will,  that  in  a  moment  everything  earthly  for  us 
shall  be  changed — everything  in  our  home  and  our  environment  be  so  altered  that 
we  hardl)^  recognize  it  or  ourselves.  Sorrow  comes  upon  us  like  a  flood,  like  an 
invading  army,  like  a  great  wind  from  the  wilderness,  "  Even  so.  Father,  for  so 
it  seemeth  good  in  Thy  sight,"  and,  "  If  this  cup  may  not  pass  from  me.  Thy 
will  be  done,"  our  hearts  will  cry  if  their  lifelong  habit  has  been  one  of  agreement 
with  the  divine  ordering.  For  in  the  day  of  the  full  cup  and  in  the  day  of  the 
empty  one  alike  we  belong,  do  we  not,  to  the  Lord  who  bought  us,  whose  we  are 
and  whom  we  serve  ? 


At  the  Parting  of  the  Ways. 

"  Go  forth  in  thy  turn,"  said  the  I^ord  of  the  years,  to  the  3'^ear  we  greet  to-day — 
"  Go  forth  to  succor  my  people,  who  are  thronging  the  world's  highway. 

"  Carry  them  health  and  comfort,  carry  them  joy  and  light. 
The  grace  of  the  eager  dawning,  the  ease  of  the  restful  night. 

"  Take  them  the  flying  snowflake,  and  the  hope  of  the  hastening  spring, 
The  green  of  the  leaf  unrolling,  the  gleam  of  the  bluebird's  wing. 

"  Give  them  the  gladness  of  children,  the  strength  of  sinew  and  nerve, 
The  pluck  of  the  man  in  battle,  who  may  fall,  but  will  never  swerve. 

"  Send  them  the  lilt  of  the  singer,  the  sword  that  is  swift  to  smite 
In  the  headlong  rush  of  the  onset,  when  the  wrong  resists  the  right. 

. ' '  Pour  on  them  peace  that  crowneth  hosts  which  have  bravely  striven. 
Over  them  throw  the  mantle  they  wear  who  are  God-forgiven. 


364  THE    MOTHER'S   ROOM. 

"Shrive  them  of  sin  and  of  blunders;  Oil,  make  my  people  free! 
Let  this  year  among  years  be  thought  of  as  a  time  of  jubilee, 

"  Throbbing  with  notes  triumphant,  waving  with  banners  fair, 
A  year  of  the  grace  of  the  Highest,  to  vanquish  human  despair. 

"  For  sorrow  and  sighing  send  them,  O  Year,  the  dance  of  mirth, 

And  banish  the  moan  and  the  crying  from  the  struggling,  orphaned  earth. 

"  Go  forth  in  thy  turn,  O  blithe  New  Year,"  said  the  Lord  of  the  passing  days; 
And  the  angels  in  heaven  heard  Him  and  lifted  a  paean  of  praise. 


The  Mother's  Room. 

The  core  of  the  house,  the  dearest  place,  the  one  that  we  all  love  best. 
Holding  it  close  in  our  heart  of  hearts,  for  its  comfort  and  its  rest, 
Is  never  the  place  where  strangers  come,  nor  yet  where  friends  are  met. 
Is  never  the  stately  drawing  room,  where  our  treasured  things  are  set. 
Oh,  dearer  far  as  the  time  recedes  in  a  dream  of  colors  dim, 
Breathing  across  our  stormy  moods  like  the  echo  of  a  hymn. 
Forever  our  own,  and  only  ours,  and  pure  as  a  rose  in  bloom, 
Is  the  centre  and  soul  of  the  old  home  nest,  the  mother's  darling  room. 

We  flew  to  its  arms  when  we  rushed  from  school,  with  a  thousand  things  to  tell; 

Our  mother  was  always  waiting  there,  had  the  day  gone  ill  or  well. 

No  other  pillow  was  quite  so  cool,  under  an  aching  head, 

As  soft  to  our  fevered  childish  cheek,  as  the  pillow  on  mother's  bed. 

Sitting  so  safely  at  her  feet,  when  the  dewy  dusk  drew  nigh, 

We  watched  for  the  angels  to  light  the  lamps  in  the  solemn  evening  sky. 

Tiny  hands  folded,  there  we  knelt,  to  lisp  the  nightly  prayer. 

Learning  to  cast  on  the  Loving  One  early  our  load  of  care. 

Whatever  the  world  has  brought  us  since,  yet,  pure  as  a  rose  in  bloom. 

Is  the  thought  we  keep  of  the  core  of  the  home,  the  mother's  darling  room. 

We  think  of  it  oft  in  the  glare  and  heat  of  our  lifetime's  later  day. 
Around  our  steps  when  the  wild  spray  beats,  and  the  mirk  is  gathering  gray. 
As  once  to  the  altar's  foot  they  ran  whom  the  menacing  foe  pursued. 
We  turn  to  the  still  and  sacred  place  where  a  foe  may  never  intrude. 


SAGE!   THYME!   SWEET-MARJORAM!  365 

And  there,  in  the  hush  of  renieinbered  hours,  our  faiUiig  souls  grow  strong, 
And  gird  themselves  anew  for  the  fray,  the  battle  of  right  and  wrong. 
Behind  us  ever  the  hallowed  thought,  as  pure  as  a  rose  in  bloom, 
Of  the  happiest  place  in  all  the  earth,  the  mother's  darling  room. 

We've  not  forgotten  the  fragrant  sheaves  of  the  lilacs  at  the  door, 

Nor  the  ladder  of  sunbeams  lying  prone  on  the  shining  morning  floor. 

We've  not  forgotten  the  robin's  tap  at  the  ever  friendl}-  pane, 

Nor  the  lilt  of  the  little  brook  outside,  trolling  its  gay  refrain. 

How  it  haunts  us  yet,  in  the  tender  hour  of  the  sunset's  fading  blush, 

The  vesper  song,  so  silvery  clear,  of  the  hidden  hermit  thrush! 

All  sweetest  of  sound  and  scent  is  blent,  when,  pure  as  a  rose  in  bloom, 

We  think  of  the  spot  loved  best  in  life,  the  mother's  darling  room. 

Holding  us  close  to  the  best  in  life,  keeping  us  back  from  sin. 

Folding  us  yet  to  her  faithful  breast,  oft  as  a  prize  we  win, 

The  mother  who  left  us  here  alone  to  battle  with  care  and  strife 

Is  the  guardian  angel  who  leads  us  on  to  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  life. 

Her  smile  from  the  heights  we  hope  to  gain  is  an  ever-beckoning  lure; 

We  catch  her  look  when  our  pulses  faint,  nerving  us  to  endure. 

Others  may  dwell  where  once  she  dwelt,  and  the  home  be  ours  no  more, 

But  the  thought  of  her  is  a  sacred  spell,  never  its  magic  o'er. 

We're  truer  and  stronger  and  braver  yet,  that,  pure  as  a  rose  in  bloom, 

Back  of  all  struggle,  a  heart  of  peace,  is  the  mother's  darling  room. 


Sage  I  Thyme !  Sweet- Marjoram 

"  Sage  !  thyme  !  sweet-marjoram  I  " 

Down  the  crowded  street, 

O'er  the  trampling  feet 
Of  the  myriad  throngs  of  men, 

'Neath  the  brilliant  sky, 

Rings  out  the  cry. 
I  hear  it  now  and  then. 

Vibrant  and  clear. 

As  far  and  near 

O'er  the  noises  all 

The  vender's  call, 
"  Sage  !  thyme  !  sweet-marjoram  ! '' 


366  SAGE!   THYME!   SWEET-MARJORAM! 

' '  Sage  !  thyme  !  sweet-marjoram  ! ' ' 

Of  the  purple  hills 

Where  the  lone  thrush  trills 
In  his  hermitage  at  ev^e; 

Of  the  soft  gray  mists 

And  the  amethysts 
The  looms  of  the  morning  weave; 

Of  acres  sown, 

By  the  four  winds  blown 
From  the  heavens  wide  and  free — 

I  think  at  the  fall 

Of  the  vender's  call, 
"  Sage  !   thyme  !  sweet-marjoram  !  " 

"  Sage  !  thyme  !  sweet-marjoram  I  " 

Was  it  yesterdaj- 

Or  an  age  away, 
Wheu  a  child  at  my  mother's  knee, 

In  the  dim  old  space 

Of  a  garden  place, 
Where  these  dear  things  used  to  be, 

I  gathered  rue, 

Rosemary,  too. 

And  the  herbs  she  loved, 

And  her  skill  approved  ? 
"  Sage  !  thyme  !  sweet-marjoram  !  " 


"Sage  !  thyme  !  sweet-marjoram  !  " 

No  drawing-room 

Cares  for  their  bloom; 
They  are  kitchen  herbs,  no  doubt. 

Just  simples  three 

For  the  mystery 
The  cook  knows  all  about. 

And  their  very  name, 

In  the  hearth -light's  flame. 
Stirs  the  rhyme  that  the  kettle  sings, 

As  down  the  street, 

With  its  myriad  feet, 


POLLY'S   COMING   HOME.  367 

And  over  the  hoof-beat's  fall, 

Over  and  over — 

Daisies  and  clover — 

I  hear  the  vender's  call, 
"  Sage  !  thyme  !  sweet-marjoram  '  " 


Polly's  Coming  Home. 

Tell  the  neighbors,  Lish,  as  you  drive  to-night, 

That  Polly,  my  Polly,  is  coming  home, 
That's  wh}^  the  place  looks  alive  with  light. 

That's  why  I've  put  on  my  silver  comb 
And  my  best  black  silk,  and  have  set  the  table 

With  honey  and  chicken  and  yellow  cream, 
And  have  gathered  roses  and  ferns  and  heather. 

And  made  her  room  like  a  fairy's  dream. 

Polly,  my  Polly  !  I've  watched  all  day. 

Doing  my  work  in  a  happy  maze, — 
I've  traveled  .down  from  that  great  hot  town. 

And  counted  the  mile-stones,  glad  to  gaze 
On  the  dear  old  birches  all  a-quiver, 

And  the  fields  with  the  daisies  gold  and  white, 
And  the  tangle  of  green  on  the  edge  of  the  river. 

I've  laughed  to  see  them  with  Polly's  sight. 

Down  the  hollow  and  up  the  rise. 

The  old  stage  coach  has  rumbled  along, 
Climbing  our  hills  that  melt  in  the  skies, 

Skirting  our  brooks  so  swift  and  strong. 
Polly,  my  Polly,  home  from  college, 

Coming  back  to  her  Dad  and  me  ! 
Lish,  as  you  drive,  just  tell  the  neighbors, 

They'll  all  be  glad  as  glad  can  be. 

Father,  here,  quick  with  the  lantern,  please. 

The  stage  is  turning  in  at  our  lane, 
I  feel  the  blood  growing  weak  at  my  knees, 

I'm  dizzy  with  joy,  'tis  love's  sweet  pain. 
Oh  !  here  is  my  girl,  she  flies  to  mother, 

Straight  as  ever  a  bird  to  her  nest, 
Darling,  my  Polly,  'twas  lonesome  without  you, 

Welcome  to  them  that  love  you  best. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 
What  to  Do,  and  How  to  Do  It. 

UCH  reading  of  the  best  manual  of  etiquette  in  the  world, 
never  yet,  by  itself,  made  any  woman  familiar  with  social 
forms,  or  gave  any  man   ease  of  manner  in  compan). 
r^     Good  manners  constantly  practiced  at  home,  refinement 
of  thought  and  speech,  courtesy,  consideration  for  others, 
common  sense,  and  association  with  polite  people,  will  make 
any  of  us  fit  to  stand  in  Her  Majesty's  palace,  or  to  wait  in  the  courts  of  kings. 
Here  are  a  few  Don'ts,  and  a  few  Dos: 
Don't  slam  a  door. 
Don't  interrupt  conversation. 

Don't  forget  to  lift  your  hat  to  a  lady  in  the  street,  to  j^our  wife,  your  mother, 
or  your  daughter,  to  women  in  an  elevator,  to  women  anywhere  indoors. 
Don't  eat  with  your  knife. 
Don't  use  slang,  or  profanity. 
Don't  stare  at  strangers. 

Don't  fidget  in  church,  or  consult  your  watch  when  the  sermon  begins  to 
weary  you. 

Don't  use  double  negatives. 

Don't  misplace  your  pronouns.  It  is  not  right  to  say,  "Aunt  Lucy  has 
invited  Emily  and  /to  dinner  to-morrow,"  though  hosts  of  people  do  put  it  in  that 
way. 

Don't  look  over  the  shoulder  of  a  fellow  passenger  and  read  his  morning 
paper. 

Don't  push  or  crowd  rudely  anywhere. 
Don't  think  first  how  a  proceeding  will  affect  yourself. 
Do  be  kind  and  amiable  in  the  family. 
Do  be  punctual  at  meals. 

Do  attend  social  meetings  where  your  presence  will  give  an  additional 
pleasure. 

Do  promptly  and  in  good  condition  return  a  borrowed  article. 
Do  introduce  people  who  may  be  mutually  agreeable  acquaintances. 

(368) 


WHAT   TO   DO   AND    HOW   TO   DO   IT.  369 

Do  make  welcome  strangers  to  your  pew,  and  practice  hospitality  i:i  your 
home  life. 

Do  praise  your  wife  or  your  husband. 

Do  take  pains  to  have  your  dress  attractive,  and  your  usual  demeanor  genial. 

Do  listen  with  patience  to  an  oft-told  tale. 

Do  restrain  yourself  when  you  feel  an  inclination  to  set  somebody  right  when 
the  case  is  of  an  anecdote  in  which  details  are  trivial  and  unimportant. 

Do  hesitate  before  you  accuse  any  one  else  of  being  inconsistent. 

Do  acknowledge  invitations  promptly,  accepting  or  declining  at  once. 

Do  keep  punctiliously  an  engagement  once  you  have  made  it. 

Do  pay  attention  in  society  to  the  older  people. 

Do  rise  and  give  a  seat  in  a  public  conveyance  to  a  woman,  a  mother 
carrying  an  infant,  or  an  elderly  gentleman. 

Mrs.  Sherwood  tells  us  that  the  young  married  woman  who  comes  to  New  York, 
or  any  othe'r  large  city,  often  passes  years  of  loneliness  before  she  has  made  her 
acquaintances.  She  is  properly  introduced,  we  will  say  by  her  mother-in-law  or  some 
other  friend,  and  then,  after  a  round  of  visits  in  which  she  has  but,  perhaps,  imper- 
fectly apprehended  the  positions  and  names  of  her  new  acquaintances,  she  has  a  long 
illness,  or  she  is  called  into  mourning,  or  the  cares  of  the  nursery  surround  her,  and 
she  is  shut  out  from  society  until  it  has  forgotten  her ;  and  when  she  is  ready  to 
emerge,  it  is  difficult  for  her  to  find  her  place  again  in  the  visiting-book.  If  she 
is  energetic  and  clever,  she  surmounts  this  difficulty  by  giving  a  series  of 
receptions,  or  engaging  in  charities,  or  working  on  some  committee,  making 
herself  of  use  to  society  in  some  way;  and  thus  picks  up  her  dropped  stitches. 
But  some  young  women  are  without  the  courage  and  tact  to  do  such  a  thing; 
they  wait,  expecting  that  society  will  find  them  out,  and,  taking  them  up,  will  do 
all  the  work  and  leave  them  to  accept  or  refuse  civilities  as  they  please. 
Society  never  does  this;  it  has  too  much  on  its  hands;  a  few  conspicuously 
beautiful  and  gifted  people  may  occasionally  receive  such  an  ovation,  but  it  is  not 
for  the  rank  and  file. 

There  is  no  necessity  for  calling  after  a  tea  or  general  reception  if  one  has 
attended  the  festivity,  or  has  left  or  sent  a  card  on  that  day. 

For  reception  days  a  lady  wears  a  plain,  dark,  rich  dress,  taking  care, 
however,  never  to  be  overdressed  at  home.  She  rises  when  her  visitors  enter, 
and  is  careful  to  seat  her  friends  so  that  she  can  have  a  word  with  each.  If 
this  is  impossible,  she  keeps  her  eye  on  the  recent  arrivals  to  be  sure  to  speak 
to  every  one.  She  is  to  be  forgiven  if  she  pays  more  attention  to  the  aged,  to  some 
distinguished  stranger,  or  to  some  one  who  has  the  still  higher  claim  of  misfortune, 
or  to  one  of  a  modest  and  shrinking  temperament,  than  to  one  young,  gay, 
fashionable,  and  rich.  If  she  neglects  these  fortunate  visitors  they  will  not 
24 


370  WHAT   TO   DO   AND   HOW   TO    DO   IT. 

feel  it;  if  she  bows  low  to  them  and  neglects  the  others,  she  betrays  that  she  is  a 
snob.  If  a  lady  is  not  sure  that  she  is  known  by  sight  to  her  hostess,  she  should 
not  fail  to  pronounce  her  own  name.  Many  ladies  send  their  cards  to  the  young 
brides  who  have  come  into  a  friend's  family,  and  yet  who  are  without  personal 
acquaintance.  Many,  alas!  forget  faces,  so  that  a  name  quickly  pronounced  is  a 
help.  In  the  event  of  an  exchange  of  calls  between  two  ladies  who  have  never 
met  (and  this  has  gone  on  for  years  in  New  York,  sometimes  until  death  has 
removed  one  forever)  they  should  take  an  earl^^  opportunity  of  speaking  to  each 
other  at  some  friend's  house;  the  younger  should  approach  the  elder  and  introduce 
herself;  it  is  always  regarded  as  a  kindness;  or  the  one  who  has  received  the 
first  attention  should  be  the  first  to  speak. 

In  the  matter  of  entertaining  guests — distinguished  or  otherwise — there  are 
two  sides,  the  guest's  and  the  entertainer's.  It  is  doubtless  true  that  family  life, 
in  its  present  complex  organization  and  bus}^  arrangements,  does  not  lend  itself  to 
the  entertainment  of  visitors  for  any  length  of  time  without  much  added  care  and 
anxiety  on  the  part  of  the  mistress  of  the  home.  In  the  olden  time  when  the 
friendly  guest  came  early  in  the  morning  to  stay  all  day,  it  was  not  unusual  for 
li2r  to  "  take  hold  "  and  help  the  mistress  of  the  house  in  whatever  work  might 
press.  There  are  many  of  us  who  can  recall  the  welcome  kinswoman  or  neighbor, 
who  in  the  days  of  our  childhood  made  the  hearts  of  the  whole  family  glad  by 
her  coming  for  a  day.  She  would  nestle  so  harmoniously  into  the  circumstances 
and  needs  of  the  family;  she  would  finish  hemming  the  set  of  napkins  so  much 
needed;  she  would  dispatch  a  whole  darning  basket  of  stockings  or  buttonless 
garments;  she  would  go  right  out  into  the  kitchen  and  make  a  new  kind  of  dessert 
which  all  would  enjoy  for  dinner.  And  all  the  while  the  friendly  flow  of  neigh- 
borly talk  would  murmur  on,  to  all  of  which  the  children  would  listen  with 
unfeigned  delight.  Perchance  the  friendly  guest's  husband  came  also,  and  he 
would  make  himself  equally  agreeable,  picking  the  peas  for  dinner,  or  hulling  the 
strawberries  for  tea.  Oh,  those  simple,  homely,  loving  visits  of  bygone  days! 
We  shall  never  see  them  more.  They  have  vanished  from  home  and  society  before 
the  advancing  march  of  railroad  time-tables,  electric  cars,  foreign  domestics  in 
our  homes  and  clubs  and  reading  circles  for  women  with  their  necessary  exacting- 
ness  of  time  and  place.  No  one  dares  now  to  drop  into  the  family  life  of  the 
nearest  and  dearest  friend  or  kinsman.  We  do  not  know  what  arrangements  we 
may  upset.  We  can  no  longer  "  help  out  "  in  family  occupations,  for  all  are  gone 
— delegated  to  the  seamstress  or  the  cook  or  the  autocratic  Bridget  who  wants 
neither  the  mistress  nor  her  guests  "  bothering  round."  What  shall  ever  suppl}' 
to  us  those  good  old  days  of  kindly  entertaining  and  being  entertained  ? 


WHAT   TO   DO   AND   HOW   TO   DO   IT. 


371 


The  best  entertainment  we  can  offer  to  our  guests  in  our  homes  to-day  is 
conversation — ourselves.  Every  other  kind  of  entertainment  palls  or  becomes  a 
weariness.      The  pleasures  of  the  table,  looking  at  pictures,  riding  or  rowing, 


meeting  other  in- 
vited guests — all 
these  maybe 
pleasant  incidents 
of  a  visit,  but  they 
are  mere  i  nci- 
dents.  The  first 
consideration  then 

when  we  would  invite  a  guest  is — would  he 
or  she  really  enjoy  the  companionship  we 
have  to  ojBfer?  has  he  or  she  sufficient  in- 
teiests  in  common  with  us  to  make  it  worth 
our  while  to  spend  our  time  or  theirs  in  en- 
tertaining and  being  entertained  ?  What  the  reception. 
a  disappointment  in  this  respect  is  many  a 

guest — especially  many  a  distinguished  guest!  Especially  if  he  (or  she)  is  a 
writer,  and  therefore  accustomed  to  express  thought  through  the  pen  rather  than 
orally,  is  he  apt  to  be  silent,  lacking  in  personal  magnetism,  absent-minded  and 
unsatisfactory ! 

There  are,  however,  distinguished  guests,  writers,  orators,  musicians,  artists, 
whom  to  entertain  is  to  have  forever  after  a  red  letter  day  in  memory.     There  are 


372 


WHAT  TO  DO  AND  HOW  TO  DO  IT. 


such  guests  who  overflow  with  kindly  and  interested  conversation;  guests  who  do 
not  ignore  with  cool  indifference  the  children  or  the  aged — both  of  whom  have 
such  especial  interest  and  pleasure  in  the  diversion  of  a  guest.  There  are  guests 
who  can  come  into  the  family  like  a  tone  of  music  sounding  in  harmony  with 
family  chord.  They  do  not  keep  meals  waiting;  they  do  not  order  the  servants; 
they  do  not  presume  upon  the  hospitality  shown  to  cause  inconvenience  or  in  any 
way  interrupt  family  life.  They  do  not  mar  the  beauty  of  the  guest  room  by 
unseeml}'  splashings  or  personal  disorder;  their  presence  is  a  benediction;  their 
going  causes  heartfelt  regret.  Such  guests  do  not  accept  hospitalit)'  and  afterwards 
speak  slightingly  or  critically  of  their  entertainers.  How  unfortunate  then  that 
such  guests  are  so  frequently  the  visitors  of  "  tuft  hunters  "  whose  only  object  in 
•entertaining  them  is  to  distinguish  themselves  or  their  families.  What  discoveries 
•of  inanity  and  presumption  do  such  guests  sometimes  make  in  accepting  hospitality ! 
It  is  not  without  reason  that  distinguished  guests  so  often  declare  their  preference 
for  a  hotel.  It  is  a  disappointment  to  a  refined  man  (or  woman)  to  be  importuned 
away  from  a  hotel  and  then  to  find  that  he  is  expected  to  share  the  room  of  a 
younger  member  of  the  family,  or  that  all  his  time  is  laid  out  for  him  without  any 
special  regard  for  his  own  convenience  or  preferences.  Truly  there  is  wide  oppor- 
tunity for  the  exercise  of  the  finest  sense  of  propriety,  the  finest  good  breeding  as 
well  as  good  sense,  both  in  the  matter  of  entertaining  and  being  entertained. 


CHAPTER  L. 

Church  Work. 

HURCH  work  falls  more  than  it  ought  on  a  few,  there  being  in 
most  congregations  a  select  number  who  bear  the  burdens 
for  the  majority,  on  whom  the  pastor  depends,  and  to  whom 
he  Church  authorities  turn  in  time  of  need.  Help  these 
/omen  who  labored  with  me  in  the  I^ord,  may  be  the 
rayer  of  the  modern  minister,  as  it  was  of  the  ancient 
Apostle.  Women,  taking  their  full  share  of  Church  work, 
find  it  largely  made  up  of  visiting  the  stranger  and  the  sick,  of 
carrying  forward  foreign  and  home  missions,  and  of  raising 
money  for  the  present  needs,  or  future  exigencies  of  the  parish.  Is  a  par- 
sonage to  be  built,  either  at  home  or  on  a  far  western  frontier,  it  is  the 
women  of  the  Church  who  will  contribute  the  funds  to  do  it  with.  Is  a  medical 
missionary  to  go  to  the  zenanas  of  India,  or  to  Yokohama,  or  Amoy,  the  Ladies* 
Aid  Society  will  send  her  forth.  Whatever  is  to  b2  done  as  an  extra,  as//«5  to 
what  the  Church  has  done  already,  it  will  be  the  women's  part  to  undertake, 
most  heartily,  cheerfully  and  ungrudgingly.  In  the  face  of  the  fact  that  women 
have  a  very  slight  personal  hold  as  a  rule  on  the  family  exchequer,  that,  unless 
they  are  wage-earners,  they  have  little  direct  command  of  mone5^  They  can  and 
do  and  always  will,  largely  increase  the  sum  of  the  Church's  liberality. 

Women  have  proved  by  harmonious  and  valuable  organized  effort  that  they 
can  sink  the  individual  preference  and  act  for  the  good  of  the  whole.  That  they 
can  labor  without  regard  to  personal  recognition,  that  with  them  Christ  is  the 
Supreme  Dictator,  and  the  grand  motive  power.  As  King's  Daughters,  as  mem- 
bers of  the  Young  Women's  Christian  Association,  and  as  professing  Christians, 
they  are  nobly  helping  forward  God's  Kingdom. 

That  they  must  work  by  means  of  fairs  and  festivals,  suppers,  and  concerts 
and  entertainments,  is  in  a  measure,  their  misfortune,  but  it  should  not  be 
forgotten  that  the  social  side  of  all  these  functions  has  its  excellent  aspect, 
bringing  together  people  who  would  else  never  know  one  another,  except  super- 
ficially, and  thus  unifying  the  work  of  the  Church,  and  making  its  families 
acquainted.     In  a  city  congregation  this  is  an  especially  happy  circumstance. 

(373) 


374  CHURCH    WORK. 

Women  and  men  too  undertake  Church  work,  aj^gjessive  and  enthusiastic, 
in  their  Sunday  Schools  and  Christian  Endeavor  Societies. 

The  obligation  laid  on  us  ever\'  one  is  to  do  our  full  share,  not  to  shirk  any- 
thing, not  to  leave  for  others  what  we  should  ourselves  undertake. 

Bishop  Potter,  writing  to  "  Christian  Women,"  pithily  observes: 

"  I  can  offer  no  better  prayer  for  you,  or  for  the  work  you  are  doing  for  our 
Ma.ster,  than  that,  in  that  work,  you  uiSLy  each  one  of  you  illustrate  a  whole 
womanhood,  rounded  and  complete  and  symmetrical,  health}^  in  bod}-,  acute  and 
vigorous  in  mind,  but  above  all  upward-looking  and  expectant  in  Faith,  trusting 
in  the  Leader  who  leads  you,  confident  because  of  the  strength  which  He  alone 
can  give.  Says  the  Apostle,  '  Ye  are  complete  in  Him  !'  Expressive  word.  It 
is  the  whole  womanhood  that  we  want." 

Church  work  ver^-  naturally  focuses  around  the  home  of  the  minister,  the 
manse,  or  parsonage. 

I  have  an  affection  for  the  old  word  manse,  designating  the  home  of  the  min- 
ister, and  bringing  up  a  throng  of  beautiful  domesticities  and  simple  hospitalities 
whenever  it  appears  0:1  the  printed  page.  In  our  country,  where  the  pastor  lives 
in  his  own  hired  house,  as  a  rule,  and  not  in  a  house  ow-ned  by  the  parish  and  set 
aside  for  the  clergjTnan's  u.se,  the  "manse"  has  only  a  poetical  meaning,  but  the 
minister's  wife  is  as  dear  and  sweet  a  reality  as  in  an}-  moss-grown  or  ivy-mantled 
manse  in  the  world. 

We  hear  it  stoutly  afanned  in  many  quarters  that  the  mistress  of  the  manse, 
as  we  shall  call  her  for  the  sake  of  convenience  in  this  bit  of  talk,  is  of  no  more 
account  i:i  the  congregation  v/hich  her  husband  serves  than  is  any  other  lady 
there.  She  is  not  included  in  the  contract,  has  no  stipulated  obligations,  draws 
no  salarj%  is  in  every  way  independent  and  free  and,  so  far  as  the  parish  is  con- 
cerned, is  a  mere  private  gentlewoman.  All  of  which  is  in  a  manner  true.  At 
the  same  time,  the  truth  is  at  best  to  be  accepted  wuth  qualifications.  Let  it  be  sup- 
posed, for  example,  that  the  minister,  marrying  in  his  youth,  has  fallen  upon 
those  evil  days  which  are  the  portion  of  the  man  who  marries  for  beauty  only; 
let  us  fancy  him  with  a  vain,  or  silly,  or  petulant,  perhaps  with  a  poorly  educated 
and  ill-disciplined,  wife.  Does  anybody  for  an  instant  think  that  he  will  not  be 
very  much  handicapped  professionally,  his  career  of  usefulness  impaired,  by  this 
unfortunate  marriage  ?  Granting  that  in  any  social  position  a  man's  rank  and 
value  largely  depend  on  the  sort  of  a  wife  he  has  taken  to  himself,  is  not  the  man 
in  the  ministrj'-,  whose  candle  cannot  be  hidden  under  a  bushel  but  must  shine 
conspicuously  in  the  sight  of  the  whole  town,  in  a  worse  condition  if  he  have  not 
a  creditable  and  sensible  helpmeet  ? 

Providentially,  ministers'  wMves,  as  I  have  known  them,  have  been  usually 
women  of  rare  loveliness,  amazing  tact  and  charming  discretion.     They  easily 


CHURCH   WORK  375 

take  precedence  among  gifted  and  agreeable  women,  and  they  take  hold  of  their 
end  of  their  husbands'  work  with  wonderful  command  of  resources  and  unfailing 
courage;  for  the  instances  are  few  in  which  something  is  not  expected  of  them  by 
the  congregation,  or  else  in  which,  expected  or  otherwise,  they  do  not  womanfully 
— I  had  almost  said  manfully,  but  the  other  word  is  better — share  the  crosses  and 
the  losses  of  the  day,  conciliate  the  offended,  soothe  the  irritated,  and  in  many  a 
quiet,  unsuspected  way  sustain  their  husbands  in  their  work  of  love  and  con- 
stant toil. 

A  popular  minister's  wife  makes  very  secure  her  husband's  position  in  a  diffi- 
cult parish.     A  beloved  minister's  wife  helps  to  win  love  to  her  husband. 

In  a  certain  parish,  where  there  were  peculiarly  inharmonious  elements,  sev- 
eral pastors  in  turn  did  their  best,  but  retired  vanquished  from  the  field.  Finally  a 
man  accepted  the  post,  fully  aware  of  the  various  causes  of  trouble,  the  jealousies 
between  the  young  people  and  the  older  people,  the  feuds  between  certain  fam- 
ilies, and  the  clashing  of  interests  which  had  made  the  church  in  question  a 
reproach  and  a  by -word.  Meeting  the  brave  pastor  after  he  had  held  the  position 
with  increasing  success  for  several  years,  I  asked  him  how  it  was  that  he  had  not 
been  defeated  too. 

"  Under  God,"  he  said,  "  I  owe  everything  here  to  Lizzie.  She  captured  all 
hearts  from  the  first.  There  isn't  a  home  in  the  parish  where  her  influence  is 
not  felt.  The  women  adore  her,  the  young  people  consult  her.  She  is  the  con- 
fidante of  the  whole  congregation.  I  never  could  have  gained  a  foothold  here 
had  I  not  been  aided  by  my  wife." 

It  is  not  every  husband,  nor  even  every  clerg5'man,  who  is  candid  and  dis- 
cerning enough  to  see  and  own  how  large  a  debt  he  owes  to  the  unselfish  and  gentle 
comrade  who  stands  gallantly  by  his  side  in  all  life's  emergencies  and  vicissi- 
tudes. I  liked  the  man  who  acknowledged  so  ungrudgingly  the  debt  he  owed  to 
"  Lizzie." 

The  manse  sets  a  pattern  for  many  another  household.  Invited  to  tea  at  the 
manse  table,  the  young  visitor  notes  the  simple  courtesies  and  delicate  politeness 
of  the  lady  whom  she  admires,  and  absorbs  something  of  the  latter' s  loveliness 
and  charm.  Advice  given  by  the  pastor's  wife  is  accepted  and  prized  where  it 
would  be  resented  if  offered  by  another. 

The  parish  has  no  right  to  exact  anything  from  the  wife  of  the  minister,  it  is 
true.  But  she  can  no  more  help  being  influential  than  a  rose  can  help  diffusing 
its  fragrance,  and  her  natural  qualifications  for  leadership,  if  these  she  have,  can- 
not be  hidden  in  this  sphere  of  activity.  If  she  does  not  wish  to  take  the  lead  offi- 
cially, she  can  still,  by  her  own  excellence  and  in  virtue  of  the  fact  that  her  husband 
must  be  a  leader,  largely  modify  the  social  life  of  the  congregation.  She  is  its  first 
lady,  and  all  are  glad  to  accord  her  the  place  of  eminence. 


376  THE   CHILDREN'S   DAY. 

A  Blessed  Opportunity. 

God  gave  me  something  very  sweet  to  be  mine  own  tnis  day; 

A  precious  opportunity,  a  word  for  Christ  to  say; 

A  soul  that  my  desire  might  reach,  a  work  to  do  for  Him; 

And  now  I  thank  Him  for  this  grace,  ere  yet  the  light  grows  dim. 

No  service  that  He  sends  me  on  can  be  so  welcome  aye 

To  guide  a  pilgrim's  weary  feet  within  the  narrow  way. 

To  share  the  tender  Shepherd' s  quest,  and  so  by  break  and  fen 

To  find  for  Him  His  wandering  lambs,  the  erring  sons  of  men. 

I  did  not  seek  this  blessed  thing:  it  came  a  rare  surprise. 
Flooding  my  heart  with  dearest  joy,  as,  lifting  wistful  eyes, 
Heaven's  light  upon  a  dear  one's  face  shone  plain  and  clear  on  mine: 
And  there,  an  unseen  third,  I  felt  was  waiting  One  divine. 

So  in  this  twilight  hour  I  kneel,  and  pour  my  grateful  thought 
In  song  and  prayer  to  Jesus  for  the  gifts  this  day  hath  brought 
Sure  never  service  is  so  sweet,  nor  life  hath  so  much  zest. 
As  when  He  bids  me  speak  for  Him,  and  then  He  does  the  rest. 


The  Children's  Day. 

How^  beautiful  this  summer's  day. 
When  June  repeats  the  runes  of  May  ! 

By  silver  slant  of  falling  showers. 

By  fragrant  breath  of  blooming  flowers, 

By  velvet  slopes  of  verdant  sod. 
Where  time  slips  past  with  feet  unshod, 

By  ripple  of  the  lilting  brook, 
By  nests  in  many  a  cunning  nook, 

By  stars  that  let  heaven's  glory  through 
The  sky  above  our  dusk  and  dew — 

By  wayside  stone,  by  vale  and  hill, 
The  loveliness  is  round  us  still. 


the;   CHir,DRRN'S    day    IX    SUMMER. 


(377) 


378  THE   CHILDREN'S   DAY. 

But  fairer  than  earth's  fairest  flowers 
Are  these  dear  little  ones  of  ours, 

Who  fill  our  homes  with  voices  sweet, 
Who  rush  our  wearier  selves  to  greet, 

And  in  their  tender  love  and  thought 
For  older  hearts  are  heaven  taught. 

Sweet  is  their  faith  that  upward  turns. 
And  toward  the  blessed  Saviour  yearns. 

We  listen,  and  we  hear  Him  say- 
Again,  as  in  that  elder  day, 

' '  Except  you  come  as  these  to  Me, 
You  cannot  My  disciples  be  !  " 

Ah  !  Lord,  as  children  we  would  meet 
To-day  about  Thy  pierced  feet. 

To-day  would  with  the  children  give 
Our  service  unto  Thee,  and  live 

Henceforth,  through  all  the  coming  days. 
Devoted  to  Thy  work  and  praise. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

Merry  Christmas  at  Home. 

0 

f-  HE  happiest  time  of  all  the  year.     The  clasp  that  binds  the  twelve 
months  and  fastens  them  with  a  golden  key  is   Christmas,  a  day 
which  never  loses   its  power  to  charm  the  world;  the  day  all  chil- 
dren love  and  all  grown  people,  too;  the  day  of  our  Saviour's  birth. 
Art   and   literature   have  done  their  best  to  make  Christmas  day 
memorable.     It  is  the  motive  of  song  and  .story,  the  music  of  the  sage, 
the  star  of  hope  for  the  whole  earth.     As  the  years  roll  on   the  joy 
of  Christmastide  is  always  extending,  and  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem  is 
worshiped  by  sages  and  kings,  by  poor  and  needy,  by  angels  and  men.     Listen 
to  the  angels'  song: 

' '  Still  through  the  cloven  skies  they  come 
With  peaceful  wings  unfurled, 
And  still  celestial  music  floats 
O'er  all  the  weary  world." 

There  are  good  people  who  have  their  doubts  about  the  propriety  of  keeping 
Christmas  with  Santa  Claus  as  the  central  figure.  They  argue  that  there  is  really 
no  such  person  as  Santa  Claus,  and  that  when  we  tell  children  that  a  mythical  per- 
sonage, with  bells  and  reindeer  and  laden  sleigh  comes  down  the  chimney  and  fills 
their  stockings  with  gifts,  we  are  teaching  them  to  deceive,  since  Santa  Claus  is 
only  a  name  for  fathers  and  mothers  and  other  kind  friends.  But  let  us  be  quite 
sure  that  we  are  not  ourselves  in  the  wrong  if  ever  we  have  joined  the  great  com- 
pany of  these  conscientious  objectors  to  Chri.stmas  keeping,  with  a  tree,  and  a 
saint,  and  Kriss  Kringle  and  all  the  pretty  lore  of  the  period. 

"  Imagination."  said  Hans  Andersen,  "  is  a  leaf  from  the  sky."  When  we 
cultivate  the  imagination  we  cultivate  the  faith  faculty  and  help  our  children  co 
comprehend  the  invisible.  Because  of  the  poverty  of  human  invention  and  of 
human  language,  there  are  a  thousand  great  truths  which  men  and  women  can 
only  vaguely  and  feebly  grasp,  can  never  fully  understand,  for  now  we  see  through 
a  glass  darkl3\ 

But  there  are  experiences  and  verities  which  are  made  truer  to  us  by  means 
of  symbolism,   and  the  symbolism  of  Santa  Claus  helps  our  children   to  climb 

(379) 


38o 


MERRY   CHRISTMAS   AT   HOME. 


upward  to  the  place  where  they  know  that  though  actually  the  old  saint  does  not 
exist,  yet  in  a  very  real  sense,  as  the  spirit  of  love  and  good  feeling  he  is  abroad 


CHRISTMAS   aT   home. 


in  the  world  ever5'where,  making  it  blithe  and  gay.     He  converts  by  his  magic 
touch  such  a  miser  as  old  Scrooge,  and  his  sweet  goodness   breathes  in  the  prayer 


MERRY   CHRISTMAS   AT    HOME.  381 

of  Tiny  Tim,  "  God  bless  us  every  one!  "  In  the  mission  schools,  in  the  farm 
lands,  in  the  great  cities,  in  the  tenements,  in  the  crowded  squares  and  the  lonely 
fields,  in  and  to  these  Christmas  has  come,  the  dear,  the  divine,  the  merry 
Christmas. 

We  learn  how  joy  belongs  to  heaven  when  we  join  in  the  Christmas  anthems, 
so  loud,  so  resounding,  and  so  thrilling  with  rapture.  We  return  to  the  sim- 
plicity of  our  own  early  days  when  we  gather  around  the  Mother  and  the  Child, 
bringing,  too,  our  spices  and  myrrh,  our  gifts  of  love,  our  small  self-sacrifice,  our 
homage  to  the  Christ.  Wherever  there  is  a  baby  in  the  house,  wherever  there  is 
helplessness  and  sweetness  and  innocence,  and  the  delight  of  bending  over  cradle 
and  crib,  there  is  the  thought  of  Jesus,  the  Child  who  came  to  save  us  all.     For 

"  The  star  rains  its  fire 

And  the  beautiful  sing, 
In  the  manger  of  Bethlehem 
Jesus  is  King." 

No  other  shopping  compares  with  this  in  fascination,  in  cheery  good-fellow- 
ship with  a  host  of  people  bent  on  a  similar  errand,  in  temptation,  let  it  be  added, 
to  spend  more  than  one  can  afford.  The  list  of  friends  whom  one  wishes  to 
surprise  or  delight  at  Christmastide  is  usually  a  formidable  one,  and  the  money  in 
the  purse  is  not  always  easily  equal  to  the  strain  made  upon  it  by  one's  affections. 
But  whether  one  buys  much  or  buys  little,  it  is  still  a  joj'ous  thing  to  go  a-Christ- 
masing,  and  to  watch  the  blithe  faces  of  children,  to  feel  the  thrill  of  pleasure  which 
is  in  the  air,  and  to  give  one's  own  heart  up  to  float  along  the  tide  in  sympathy 
with  the  general  feeling.  For  it  is  the  spirit  of  the  Child  that  is  abroad  on  the 
earth,  the  Child  who  came  from  heaven  and  slept  in  Mary's  arms,  the  Child  whom 
the  angels  announced  and  the  shepherds  saw  as  they  followed  the  star  to 
Bethlehem.  At  Christmas,  as  at  no  other  period,  we  again  become  simple-hearted 
and  easily  pleased  and  unaffectedly  humble  as  children  are;  and  even  if  world- 
hardened  and  narrow  and  selfish,  we  get  some  faint  gleam  of  what  Jesus  meant 
when  He  said:  "  Except  ye  be  converted  and  become  as  little  children  ye  cannot 
inherit  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

I  don't  know  which  shops  attract  you  most,  my  reader,  in  this  holiday  time, 
but  I  confess  that  I  linger  longest  over  the  books.  My  idea  of  entire  earthly 
bliss  at  this  hour  would  be  liberty  to  buy  all  the  books  I  want,  for  a  borrowed 
book,  or  a  book  merely  to  read  and  return  to  a  library,  is  not  like  a  book  in 
possession.  What  rapture,  the  mere  lingering,  loving  touch  of  the  paper,  the 
clearness  of  the  type,  the  exquisite  grace  of  the  binding!  Here  is  an  edition  of 
that  volume  of  essays,  that  poem,  that  biography  I've  longed  for  so  long,  and 
wouldn't  it  be  happiness  beyond  belief  to  purchase  it  and  send  it  to  my  friend 


382  MERRY    CHRISTMAS   AT   HOME. 

,  who  is  as  madly  in  love  with  books  as  I  am  myself!     I  never  know  when  to 


leave  when  I  stray  at  Christmastide  into  one  of  my  favorite  book  stores. 

But  the  fairyland  of  cut  glass  and  china  is  very  alluring,  too!  What 
miracles  of  grace  in  shape,  what  glory  of  coloi*,  what  satin  smoothness  to  the 
hand,  what  crystalline  and  prismatic  transparency  in  the  shelves  which  groan 
beneath  cups  and  platters  fit  for  the  palaces  of  Christendom!  It  would  savor  of 
vulgar  profusion  to  give  an  unlimited  order  here.  One  finds  it  refined  and 
aristocratic  and  altogether  becoming  to  consider  the  day  of  small  things,  and  to 
buy  sparingly  but  judiciously  where  everything  is  so  charming  to  the  eye  of 
woman.  The  smallest  bit  of  china  makes  a  present  worth  offering  and  receiving, 
and  a  great  deal  of  love  may  go  with  a  very  small  bundle  selected  here. 

I  spent  a  day  in  early  September  at  a  country  house  where  the  daughters 
were  making  Christmas  gifts.  Fine  linen  was  the  basis  and  exquisite  embroidery 
the  superstructure,  and  the  work  of  their  deft  needles  was  as  that  of  the  artist's 
brush.  Doilies  and  centrepieces  and  bags  and  sachets  had  been  growing  under 
their  hands  all  summer,  for  they  preferred  doing  their  Christmas  planning  and 
sewing  and  shopping  a  long  while  before  the  time  itself.  There  is  much  to  be 
said  in  favor  of  this  method,  particularly  when  one's  gifts  are  one's  own  work, 
but  one  should  take  her  share  even  then  in  the  overflowing  felicity  of  the  season, 
be  out  in  the  street,  go  to  the  Christmas  markets,  carry  to  the  hospital,  the 
asylum,  the  homes  of  the  needy  and  the  shut-in,  and  even  to  the  jail  and  the 
prison,  some  bit  of  the  Christmas  spirit. 

The  finest  one  can  give  is  always  himself.  "The  gift  without  the  giver  is 
bare."  You  may  not  have  one  dollar  to  spend,  but  you  can  carry  sunshine  if 
your  face  is  bright  and  your  manner  is  sympathetic  and  your  heart  is  genuinely 
loving.  Not  in  purple  or  fine-twined  linen,  not  in  silver  or  gold,  not  in  any 
perishable  earthly  commodity  inheres  the  elixir  of  the  Christmas  jo}';  it  is  finer, 
subtler,  sweeter  than  aught  money  can  buy;  it  is  distilled  from  a  heart  "at 
leisure  from  itself, ' '  and  over  it  angels  have  chanted  ' '  Glory  to  God  in  the 
Highest,  peace  on  earth,  good  will  to  men." 

When  Christmas  is  over,  the  tree  dismantled  of  its  toys  and  its  twinkling 
tapers,  the  gifts  discussed  and  laid  away,  and  the  hour  of  sober  reaction  arrived, 
in  too  many  households  there  is  a  sigh  over  what  may  be  christened  Christmas 
folly;  for  fast  in  the  wake  of  Christmas  follows  the  pursuing  train  of  the  Christmas 
bills,  and  fathers  struggling  to  .support  large  families  on  slender  salaries,  mothers 
accustomed  to  the  drill  and  the  discipline  of  a  thousand  small  and  obscure 
economies,  suddenly  awaken  to  the  fact  that  the  beautiful  season  has  left  them  to 
drag  through  weary  weeks  a  ball  and  chain  of  harassing  indebtedness.  Than  this 
nothing  can  be  more  depressing,  nothing  more  fatally  sure  to  wreck  domestic 
peace,  and  to  age  men  and  women  prematurely,  and  well  would  it  be  for  us  all  if 


MERRY    CHRISTMAS   AT   HOME.  383 

a  few  rules  could  be  laid  down  and  resolutely  observed,  so  that  Christmas  should 
never  cause  us  to  indulge  in  reckless  spending  far  in  excess  of  the  income. 

In  the  first  place,  if  people  cannot  deny  themselves  the  great  pleasure  of  gift- 
making,  let  them  limit  the  number  of  those  who  are  on  their  list.  The  widening 
circles,  which,  beyond  the  immediate  group  at  the  fireside,  include  aunts,  uncles, 
cousins  nearer  or  farther  in  degree  of  kinship,  friends  and  acquaintances,  run  up 
in  some  cases  into  the  hundreds. 

To  send  even  a  letter — which,  by-the-bye,  is  an  admirable  Christmas  gift  in 
itself,  so  personal,  so  intimate,  so  fragrant  with  affection  it  may  be — to  send  even 
this  to  everybody  one  wishes  to  compliment  means  a  large  investment  of  time, 
thought  and  trouble,  and  to  those  who  must  count  very  frugally,  indeed,  the  stamps 
mean  an  outlay  which  may  be  formidable.  For  some  of  us  any  recognition  of  the 
Christmas  joy,  beyond  our  verbal  expression  of  goodwill,  is  really  a  phase  of 
Christmas  folly. 

But  it  is  not  the  crowning  folly.  This  is  reached  in  the  giving  of  what  may 
be  described  as  the  composite  present — the  present  sent  by  pupils  to  their  precep- 
tors, by  congregations  to  their  pastor,  by  teachers  in  Sunday-schools  to  their 
superintendent.  In  every  assemblage  of  people  who  thus  bestow  a  united  gift 
there  are  not  a  few  who  cannot  easily  and  comfortably  afford  to  give  anything  at 
all,  but  who  have  not  the  moral  courage  to  decline,  and  so,  with  smiling  faces  and 
reluctant  hearts,  they  add  their  grudging  and  liardlj'  earned  dollars,  wondering 
the  while  what  they  can  do  without  to  make  up  for  the  useless  sacrifice.  Pride, 
that  insatiate  Moloch  of  the  human  heart,  urges  them  on,  and  they  simply  do 
what  they  prefer  not  to  do  because  they  are  afraid  either  of  being  thought  mean 
and  stingy  or  of  having  their  poverty  suspected.  This  is  the  coronation  of  Christ- 
mas folly. 

Christmas  is  so  dear  and  sweet  a  season,  so  full  of  jollity,  so  radiant  with 
loving  thoughts,  that  it  seems  a  pity  it  should  ever  be  spoiled  or  shadowed  by  a 
misconception.  A  truer  self-respect,  a  finer  feeling  for  the  meaning  of  the  day, 
a  greater  delicacy  and  discernment,  would  save  us  from  clouding  our  sunshine,  or 
wronging  our  creditors,  or  defrauding  ourselves  of  the  ease  of  mind  which  should 
be  our  right,  or  making  our  homes  unhappy  because  of  anxieties  induced  by 
wasteful  spending  during  the  holidays.  By  all  means  the  open  hand  where  it  can 
be  afforded.  But  never  the  expenditure  which  transcends  honor  and  honesty,  and 
is  weak  and  ill-judged,  and  leads  one  not  to  Christmas  merriment,  but  to  Christmas 
folly.  There  is  but  one  class  of  persons  who,  in  every  station  in  life,  hail  the  arrival 
of  the  holiday  season  with  unalloyed  satisfaction.  To  the  children  Christmas 
comes  fraught  with  joy.  They  live  essentially  in  the  present.  For  them  there 
is  no  Past;  they  exist  in  a  glorious  Now,  rich  in  visions  of  Santa  Claus,  reindeers, 
sugar-plums,  Christmas  trees  and  toys. 


384  MERRY   CHRISTMAS  AT   HOME. 

With  us  older  people  it  is  different.  In  some  homes  Christmas  is  received 
with  many  festive  preparations.  In  others  it  is  regarded  in  a  cold,  practical 
fashion  as  a  must  be — like  Washington's  birthday  or  the  Fourth  of  July.  To 
others,  and  this  is  by  far  the  larger  class,  Christmas  is  loved  and  dreaded  for  what 
it  once  was,  and  for  what  it  can  never  be  again.  It  is  a  day  on  which  we  are 
forced  to  pause  and  gaze  on  the  empty  chair,  and  miss  with  a  yearning  that  is 
physical  pain  one  who  is  not  here  now.  There  were  times  when  we  too  had 
virtually  no  past,  and  when  the  Yuletide  was  all  merriment.  Then,  as  we  grew 
older,  it  lost  some  of  its  brilliancy  as  one  after  another  home  that  we  knew  was 
saddened.  And  at  last  the  sorrow  came  to  us,  and  since  then  Christmas  has  never 
been  just  the  same 

A  friend  once  said  to  me,  reproachfully,  "  But  would  you  forget  those  who 
are  gone  ?  ' ' 

We  cannot  forget  them.  And  if  they  could  speak  to  us  now,  would  they 
not  urge  us  to  be  happy?  The  mother  who  shadows  her  child's  life  by  her  own 
sorrow  has  much  for  which  to  repent.  Said  one  child  to  another,  in  a  moment  of 
confidence,  ' '  I  often  wish  I  had  died  instead  of  my  little  sister,  because  then  per- 
haps mamma  would  love  me  as  much  as  she  loves  her." 

In  another  family,  in  which  one  of  the  little  girls  had  died  four  5'ears  before, 
one  child  exclaimed  to  her  older  sister,  "  Let's  have  a  jolly  time  this  Christmas  ! " 
Then,  bitterly :  "  But  of  course  we  can't,  because  mamma  won't  want  any  jollity. 
It  disturbs  her  thoughts  of  Mary." 

The  young  son  of  the  house  here  broke  in  with  his  opinion :  "I  don't  see 
why,  just  because  our  sister  is  happy  in  heaven,  we  must  have  such  horrid  Christ- 
mases  here  on  earth." 

We  cannot  expect  the  children,  who  are,  mercifully  for  them,  ignorant  of 
death  and  sorrow,  to  grieve  with  us.  Nor  do  we  want  them  to  do  so.  They 
sympathize  as  far  as  they  are  able.  We  should  be  glad  that  they  can  go  no  farther. 
The  mother  must  remember  that  she  is  the  standard  by  which  her  child  judges 
the  world.  To  her  the  little  one  looks  to  set  the  mood  of  the  day.  If  mamma  is 
always  sad,  it  affects  the  child's  spirits  at  once.  At  first  he  may  be  frightened. 
Then,  as  he  becomes  accustomed  to  the  doleful  visage,  he  is  either  cowed  by  it, 
or,  what  is  worse,  is  hardened  into  indifference.  One  noble  mother,  who  has  had 
sorrow  upon  sorrow,  has  always  made  Christmas  day  bright  for  her  children.  They 
do  not  guess  at  the  heartache  she  hides  from  them,  nor  that,  the  holidays  past, 
she  says,  from  her  aching  heart,  "  Thank  God  !  the  Christmas  season  is  over  !  " 

In  years  to  come  these  same  little  folk  will  remember,  and,  remembering, 
will  appreciate  the  heroic  self-sacrifice  of  the  brave  mother. 

"  I  could  not  bear  to  keep  Christmas  in  my  home,"  said  a  sad-eyed  woman, 
*'  if  it  were  not  for  the  children." 


A   CHRISTMAS   CAROL.  385 

But  it  is  for  the  children.  And,  through  them,  for  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem; 
for  did  He  not  say,  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these — 
ye  have  done  it  unto  Me  ? ' ' 

And  not  is  such  self- forgetful  love  the  theme  upon  which  the  angels  touched 
when  they  sang,  on  the  first  Christmas  eve,  of  "Peace  on  earth,  good  will  to 
men  ?  ' ' 

The  giving  of  holiday  presents  varies  from  year  to  year.  Sometimes  it  is  the 
fashion  to  give  indiscriminately,  even  lavishly,  to  everybody,  far  and  near.  Again 
custom  decrees  that  only  a  favored  few  dear  ones  shall  be  the  recipients.  At 
times  "useful"  presents  are  in  vogue,  and  again  we  are  enjoined  to  let  people 
buy  useful  things  for  themselves,  and  give  for  presents  only  pretty  ones. 

One  of  the  first  essentials  of  a  gift  seems  to  be  its  appropriateness.  It  may 
be  very  beautiful  and  costly,  yet  if  the  receiver  does  not  know  what  it  is  for,  much 
less  have  an  opportunity  to  use  it,  the  present  is  but  an  incubus,  and  confers  a  bur- 
densome obligation.  Such  a  giving  over  people's  heads  savors  of  a  sarcasm  more 
cruel  than  neglect  would  be. 

Yet,  when  you  select  for  your  friend's  need  or  pleasure,  it  is  well  that  j^our 
gift  should  have  a  degree  of  daintiness  which  the  friend  would  not  get  for  himself. 
He  wants  a  footstool,  yet  he  would  not  buy  such  a  handsome  one  as  you  buy  for 
him.  You  know  his  favorite  colors,  too,  and  it  is  well  to  think  of  them  at  the 
right  moment. 

In  short,  your  affection  should  not  only  meet  his  need,  but  it  should  give  the 
little  touch  of  "something  more"  which  he  would  not  otherwise  have  secured. 


A  Christmas  Carol. 

Come,  children,  with  singing. 

With  sweet  voices  ringing. 
Come  kneel  to  the  Babe  that  in  Bethlehem  lies. 

While  angels  a-choir, 

With  pinions  of  fire, 
Are  filling  with  music  the  listening  skies. 

Repeat  the  dear  story 

How,  leaving  His  glory, 
The  Hope  of  the  ages  came  down  to  the  earth. 

Oh,  worship  Him  lowly, 

The  lofty  and  holy, 
Our  Star  of  the  Morning  shone  out  at  His  birth. 


25 


386  THE   CHRISTMAS  STOCKING. 

See  Mary  unfold  Him 
While  shepherds  behold  Him, 

And  sages  are  bent  at  His  beautiful  feet, 
Come,  haste  to  adore  Him, 
And,  bowing  before  Him, 

The  Christ  who  redeems  you  in  reverence  greet. 

This  wonderful  Stranger, 

His  couch  is  a  manger, 
His  cradle  is  made  with  the  cattle  in  stall; 

Yet  God  of  creation 

In  blest  incarnation. 
He  stoops  to  our  nature  to  ransom  us  all. 

Rock,  bells,  in  the  steeple. 
Shout  loudly,  good  people. 

And,  children,  oh,  merrily,  merrily  sing  ! 
O'er  land  and  o'er  ocean 
With  joyful  commotion 

Send  forth  the  glad  tidings  that  Jesus  is  King. 


The  Christmas  Stocking. 

Most  of  us,  searching  memory  for  our  earliest  association  with  rapturous  joy 
in  possession  or  in  bestowal,  find  that  away  in  the  dim  and  mysterious  recesses  of 
the  brain,  there  hovers  a  dreamy  thought  of  the  Christmas  stocking. 

It  is  Christmas  eve.  The  children  are  on  tiptoe  with  happy  anticipation.  In 
a  row,  about  the  chimney  piece,  hang  the  stockings,  larger  and  smaller,  from  the 
father's  to  the  baby's.  When  the  little  ones  fall  asleep  it  is  with  a  thought  of 
Santa  Claus  tugging  at  the  harp-chords  of  the  heart,  which  vibrate  thenceforth  to 
glad  and  silvery  melodj-. 

There  are  people  who  have  scruples  of  conscience  about  our  dear  old  J^aint 
Nicholas.  They  fear  to  inculcate  falsehood  when  they  talk  to  the  children  about 
Santa  Claus.  But  if  they  could  see  with  my  eyes,  they  would  perceive  that  the 
symbolism  of  Santa  Claus  is  the  garment  of  a  profound  truth,  that  the  reindeer, 
and  the  stealing  down  the  chimney  with  the  gifts  while  we  sleep,  and  the  whole 
poetical  machinery  of  the  Christmas  pageant  are  the  husks,  beneath  which,  safe 
and  sweet  and  forever  true,  abide  the  solemn  realities  of  the  Christmastide,  the 
love,  the  self-denial,  and  the  abundant  good  will  of  the  annual  festival  of  tiie 


THE   INDWELLING   CHRIST.  387 

blessed  Lord's  incarnation.  The  children  will  gradually  discover  for  themselves 
what  is  truth  to  our  material  perceptions,  and  what  is  the  everlasting  truth 
beyond  them. 

Till  they  do  thus  differentiate  and  decide  for  themselves,  let  Santa  Claus  be 
to  them  a  stepping-stone  to  the  knowledge  of  the  great  love  which  keeps  the  world 
in  its  grasp. 

On  Christmas  morning,  when  the  stockings  have  been  explored,  and  the  gifts 
apportioned,  when  there  comes  a  moment  of  quiet,  read  with  the  children  once 
more  the  beautiful  story  of  the  Babe  who  was  (and  is)  born  in  Bethlehem,  of  the 
Shepherds,  of  the  Star,  of  the  Wise  Men,  of  the  Angelic  Song.  Then  tell  the 
children  that  this  Child  shall  be  named  Jesus,  because  He  saves  His  people  from 
their  sins. 


The  Indwelling  Christ. 

Wonderful  and  precious  beyond  words  is  the  thought  of  the  indwelling 
Christ,  the  Christ  living  in  our  souls  and  expressing  Himself  through  us.  His 
light  in  our  faces,  His  power  in  our  endeavors,  His  grace  in  our  smallest  actions. 
Not  coming  to  us  now  and  then,  as  comes  the  wayfarer  who  knocks  at  the  door 
and  is  admitted  for  a  transient  stay;  not  even  visiting  us  as  does  the  dear  and 
friendly  guest,  whose  occasional  tarrying  under  the  roof  is  a  benediction  while  it 
remains  and  a  pleasant  memory  when  it  is  over;  not  thus,  arriving  and  departing, 
staying  and  going,  but  different  and  sweeter,  and  tenderer  and  more  vital  by  far 
is  the  abiding  with  us  of  our  Lord. 

We  do  not  always  arise  to  the  height  of  our  privilege  in  having  with  us  ever 
through  life's  journey,  on  the  highways  and  the  byways,  by  night  and  by  day, 
the  company  of  the  un.seen  Christ,  an  inmate  of  our  own  household,  strong  to 
comfort,  blithe  to  cheer,  sympathetic  in  sorrow,  our  guard,  our  guide,  our 
defender.  We  think  of  Christ  as  our  Lord  above,  to  whom  we  are  traveling  on 
pathways  arched  by  the  steadfast  stars  and  fragrant  with  the  flowers  of  love  and 
hope.  But  Christ  is  our  comrade  on  the  way;  in  our  walks  and  our  talks,  in  our 
anxious  hours  and  our  weary  hours,  in  our  darkness  as  in  our  light,  Christ  is  our 
comrade!  Therefore  we  need  never  be  desolate,  though  we  may  now  and  then  be 
lonely.  Therefore  we  may  never  fear  the  tempter,  nor  be  conquered  by  the  sin 
that  doth  most  easily  beset  us.  For  our  Christ,  dwelling  with  us  and  shining 
through  us,  shall  put  the  tempter  to  flight  and  enable  us  to  trample  sin  under  our 
f^et. 

The  sense  of  dominion  should  come  to  us  as  we  realize  this  vital  abiding  of 
the  Christ  in  our  lives.  The  child  of  the  King,  albeit  in  rags  and  .squalor,  should 
keep  some  memory  of  tlie  Father's  house  and  the  Father's  state.     The  child  of 


388  WHEN   THE    HOLIDAYS   ARE   OVER. 

the  King  in  the  palace,  with  the  King  smiling  upon  him  should  bear  himself 
royally  and  give  largesse  of  good  to  all  he  meets  and  overrule  all  Avhich  fights 
against  the  kingdom.  What  means  our  dear  Lord  when  He  tells  us:  "  The 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  within  you,"  but  that  wherever  we  are,  we  are  to  carry  the 
light  and  the  song  of  the  palace,  the  joy  of  the  festival,  the  power  to  dismiss 
doubt,  to  disarm  enmit}-,  to  win  those  who  are  estranged  and  hostile,  and  bring 
them  into  peaceful  harmony  with  the  divine  order  ?  Only  as  we  are  in  tune  with 
heaven,  can  we  reach  and  bless  those  who  are  skeptical  and  lack  vision,  those 
who  are  grief-stricken  and  deaf  to  angelic  melodies,  those  who  are  indifferent 
and  need  to  be  aroused. 

We  seldom  reach  as  we  would  like  to  any  of  these  classes,  for  the  reason 
that  we  carry  to  them  too  little  of  the  Christ.  The  little  we  do  carry  blesses 
and  uplifts  them,  but  we  do  not  carry  enough.  For  the  clear  shining  of  the 
light  which  our  Lord  gives  us  is  obscured  by  our  own  selfishness,  our  want 
of  humility,  our  faltering  faith,  or  our  disobedience  to  the  orders  which  come 
to  us  from  above.  Half-hearted  service  so  weakens  us  that  we  do  not  carrj' 
our  light  of  love  as  we  might  into  the  dark  places  of  the  earth.  Impatience 
and  self-seeking  and  low  ideals  alienate  those  who  are  looking  for  the  Christ, 
but  cannot  find  Him,  in  the  lives  we  show  them. 

You  take  your  lantern  and  wrap  a  blanket  around  it  and  no  one  sees  the 
flame  though  it  may  still  feebly  burn.  You  light  your  lamp  and  shade  it  with 
dark  paper  or  thick  horn,  and  the  spark  or  taper  sheds  only  a  faint  glow. 
But  around  the  starry  light  let  there  be  a  pellucid  porcelain  shade,  and  the 
steady  radiance  is  an  illumination  which  penetrates  the  surrounding  gloom  and 
lights  homeward  the  feet  of  the  returning  child. 


When  the  Holidays  Are  Over= 

When  the  holidays  are  over,  and  the  shopping  bills  are  paid, 

And  the  little    lads  and  lasses  with  the  brand-new  toys  have  played, 

When  the  pretty  eldest  daughter  is  the  graceful  debutante, 

And  the  poor  have  had  their  harvest,  sometimes  all  too  bare  and  scant, 

When  the  snow  is  on  the  mountain,  and  the  sheen  is  on  the  lake, 

And  we  settle  down  to  winter,  freezing  blast  and  flying  flake. 

Somehow,  then  we  draw  the  curtains,  and  at  night  the  home  is  sweet, 

With  the  fire  upon  the  hearth,  love,  and  outside  the  stinging  sleet. 


SPRING-TIME.  389 

And  we  take  account  of  stock  then,  here  the  labor,  there  the  gain, 
All  for  which  we've  toiled  and  striven,  paid  the  price  in  joy  or  pain, 
Gems  and  curios,  lands  and  houses,  treasures  brought  from  West  or  East, 
Warily  we  count  and  tally  from  the  greatest  to  the  least, 
Are  we  richer,  are  we  poorer,  are  we  free,  or  slaves  to  debt  ? 
Have  we  rosy  dreams  to  beckon,  sordid  memories  to  forget  ? 

When  the  holidays  are  over,  and  the  evergreens  are  gone, 

And  the  common  days  are  ours,  full  of  care  from  dawn  to  dawn,     . 

Somehow,  then  we  cling  the  closer,  comrades  on  the  uphill  road, 

Bound  to  share  each  other's  fare,  and  bound  to  ease  each  other's  load. 

And  the  dearest  things  we  own,  love,  are  the  things  that  no  man  sees. 

Faith,  and  truth,  and  hope  unbounded,  courage,  patience,  things  like  these; 

And,  you  know,  a  little  grave,  dear,  on  a  hillside  far  away. 

Where  the  violets  bloom  in  summer,  and  the  snow  fleece  lies  to-day, 

That  small  space  of  earth  is  ours,  and  the  bliss  we  buried  there 

Is  our  holiest  possession,  none  so  sacred  anywhere. 


Spring-Time. 

My  little  bright-eyed  darling. 

Pray  did  you  ever  see 
The  dainty  flower-angels 

Who  flit  through  bush  and  tree  ? 
They  come  when  April  coaxes 

The  baby  leaves  apart, 
And  to  and  fro  on  errands 

Of  gentle  haste  they  dart. 

And  oh  !  the  joy  they  feel,  dear, 

When,  in  a  tender  quest. 
Some  shining  April  morning 

They  find  a  fairy  nest. 
A  pretty  birdie's  cradle 

Just  rocking  in  the  air. 
With  pearly  eggs  close  lying. 

Tucked  in  with  fondest  care. 


390 


SPRJNG-TIME. 


SPRING-TIME. 


The  little  cherub  watchers 

Have  learned  one  secret  well  — 
That  songs  and  wings  are  prisoned 

In  ever}'^  fragile  shell; 
But  till  the  shell  is  broken 

The  melodies  are  dumb, 
And  so  the  flower-angels 

To  free  the  birdies  come. 


THE   ANGEIv'S   WATCH.  391 

His  Only  Friend 

Long  miles  the  two  comrades  have  wandered  together, 

From  hot  cit)'  streets  over  meadow  and  moor, 
Till,  wearied,  one  pillows  his  head  on  the  heather, 

God  pity  him  1  hungry  and  homeless  and  poor. 

Forgetting  his  troubles,  the  worn  feet  extended. 

The  aching  limbs  resting,  his  sleep  is  profound ; 
But  he  is  not  alone  as  he  sits  there — befriended 

By  Waif,  who  is  ready  to  spring  at  a  sound. 

No  peril  shall  menace  the  form  of  the  sleeper 

Unchallenged  by  one  who  is  boldly  awake — 
A  dear  little  sentinel,  proud  to  be  keeper 

Of  him  whose  last  meal  it  was  his  to  partake. 

The  clumsy  paw  touches  the  hard  hand,  caressing 

Its  brown  knotted  palm;   and  the  shaggy  head,  pressed 

Within  the  arm's  circlet,  lies  soft  as  a  blessing 
Against  the  true  heart  in  the  thin,  faded  vest. 

They've  been  famished  and  chilly  and  tired  together; 

Companions,  have  shared  the  sharp  word  and  the  blow, 
Have  faced  a  harsh  world  in  the  wildest  of  weather, 

And  they  know  not  to-day  by  what  pathway  to  go. 

Poor  comrades,  so  faithful  !  perhaps  just  before  you 

Is  shelter,  a  home  that  will  open  its  gate. 
All  hardships  have  endings;  kind  heaven  is  o'er  you; 

The  brave  and  the  honest  may  conquer  their  fate. 


The  Angels'  Watch. 

When  golden  stars  are  in  the  sky, 
And  all  the  earth  has  gone  to  sleep, 

God  sends  His  angels  from  on  high, 
O'er  little  children  watch  to  keep. 


392  THE    COMFORT   AT   THE    CORE. 

They  fill  the  night  with  heavenly  songs, 
Sweet  dreams  their  blessed  music  brings; 

Until  at  dawn  in  rising  throngs 

They  wake  us  with  their  rustling  wings. 


The  Portrait. 


A  throng  of  men  and  women, 

Gay,  gallant,  debonair. 
No  hint  of  burdening  heartache, 

Or  weight  of  sordid  care 
In  the  surging  crowd  of  faces, 

The  flutter  of  carven  fans, 
The  courtly  commonplaces, 

In  that  gathering  of  the  clans. 

But  from  the  wall  a  portrait. 

With  keen  judicial  eyes, 
Surveyed  the  sea  of  people 

As  a  star  might  from  the  skies. 
Apart,  alone,  unnoted. 

The  portrait  looking  down. 
Read  the  sorrow  and  the  secrets 

Of  half  the  smiling  town. 


The  Comfort  at  the  Core. 

There  came  to  me  a  day  of  dole,  when  chill  across  my  path 
A  wind  of  sorrow,  smiting,  swept;  it  seemed  a  wind  of  wrath. 
So  icy  was  its  blighting,  so  sore  and  deep  its  pain, 
That  I  bent  before  the  blast,  and  thought  I  could  not  rise  again. 

But  in  the  very  secret  of  the  anguish,  as  I  lay. 
My  pillow  wet  with  "heavy  tears,  there  broke  a  dawn  of  day; 
Another  day,  another  dawn,  and  life  grew  full  once  more 
Of  blessedness,  for  lo!  I  found  God's  meaning  at  the  core 


COMFORT   ONE   ANOTHER.  393 

Of  the  great  and  weary  trial;  God  sent  the  pang  to  me, 
And  gave  Himself,  that  dreary  time,  my  star  of  life  to  be. 
Since  when  I  lift  my  head  and  w^alk  serene  through  care  and  loss; 
The  flowers  of  life  immortal  are  garlanding  the  cross. 

And  aye,  in  hours  of  loneliness,  my  heart  sets  wide  its  door. 
And  God's  strong  angel  shows  me  pain  has  comfort  at  the  core. 


Comfort  One  Another. 

Comfort  one  another. 
For  the  waj^  is  often  dreary. 
And  the  feet  are  often  weary, 

And  the  heart  is  very  sad. 
There  is  heavy  burden  bearing. 
When  it  seems  that  none  are  caring. 

And  we  half  forget  that  ever  we  were  glad. 

Comfort  one  another, 
With  a  hand-clasp  close  and  tender, 
With  the  sweetness  love  can  render, 

And  the  looks  of  friendly  eyes. 
Do  not  w^ait  with  grace  unspoken, 
While  life's  daily  bread  is  broken — 

Gentle  speech  is  oft  like  manna  from  the  skies 


CHAPTER  LII. 


Open  Secrets. 

(^^j^)|^EARY  EMILY  CI.AYTON  found  it  hard  to  realize  that  she  was 
an  old  woman.  She  never  did  realize  it  in  the  least,  even  when 
^  her  tall  grandchildren,  the  prettiest  girls  in  Massachusetts,  clus- 
tered around  her,  and  the  only  way  she  could  be  made  to  under- 
stand that  she  was  on  life's  downhill  grade  was  by  compelling 
herself  to  think  back,  back,  over  the  long,  long  past. 
When  she  was  a  little  maid  in  a  blue  checked  gingham  frock  and  a  sunbonnet, 
carrying  her  dinner  to  school  in  a  tin  pail,  she  was  the  gayest,  most  heedless, 
most  light-hearted  lassie  in  the  county.  She  was  a  vain  little  girl,  for  she 
remembered  that  she  used  to  look  in  the  glass,  and  think  herself  pretty,  as  indeed 
she  was.  Once  a  boy  gave  her  a  gold  pencil  case,  and  her  mother  said  she  must 
give  it  back,  which  she  did  to  her  intense  mortification.  That  boy  died  fifty 
years  ago,  in  his  young  manhood. 

Then  she  looks  back,  and  she  sees  herself  a  slim  young  girl,  with  bands  of 
smooth  hair,  and  bright  near-sighted  eyes,  and  a  way  that  charms  and  pleases 
people  and  helps  her  to  make  friends.  She  isn't  in  love,  except  with  being  loved, 
so  she  makes  a  great  mistake,  and  too  early  says  yes  to  the  wooer  who  comes, 
brave  and  debonair,  and  begs  her  to  wear  his  name,  and  share  his  lot  ' '  for  better, 
for  worse  till  death  us  do  part." 

Nevertheless,  though  she  discovers  in  part  her  mistake  before  she  is  married, 
she  will  not  draw  back,  and  Richard  Clayton  never  dreamed  that  he  was  a  dis- 
appointment, that  he  failed  of  being  her  perfect  hero.  She  made  him  the  most 
loyal,  the  most  loving,  the  most  devoted  of  wives,  and  on  his  dying  bed  he 
blessed  her,  and,  so  had  their  hearts  by  that  time  grown  together,  that  never  at  any 
moment  of  her  long  widowhood,  did  she  recall  a  time  of  incompleteness,  never 
did  she  cease  to  idealize  the  husband  of  her  youth,  when  he  had  passed  on  before 
her.  But  it  was  not  in  her  temperament  nor  her  disposition  to  grieve  incessantly 
nor  forever;  she  was  elastic,  and  it  was  her  fortunate  fate  to  renew  her  strength 
after  periods  of  depression. 

At  forty,  at  fifty,  at  sixty,  Mrs.  Clayton  found  it  in  her  power  to  receive  new 
impressions,  vividly  and  joyously.  At  sixty-five  she  set  about  learning  Hebrew, 
a  difficult  task,  but  not  an  insuperable  one  to  a  woman  who  had  been  a  student 

(394) 


THANKvSGIVING.  395 

more  or  less  during  life.  At  seventy  she  took  a  long  and  difl&cult  trip  across  the 
continent,  then  by  sea  went  to  San  Francisco,  and  concluded  by  a  journey  round 
the  world. 

"  Will  you  tell  me,"  said  a  friend,  "of  what  fountain  of  youth  you  have  the 
secret?  How  do  you  manage  to  keep  well,  and  blooming,  and  beautiful,  when 
other  women  have  bent  shoulders,  wrinkled  skins,  and  scant  endurance?" 

"  I  have  only  open  secrets,"  she  replied.  "  I  rest  when  I  am  tired,  I  go 
early  to  bed,  and  if  I  do  not  sleep  I  close  my  eyes  and  lie  quietly  in  the  comfort 
of  the  darkness.  During  the  day  when  I  am  at  home,  I  take  an  hour's  rest  after 
midday,  with  my  feet  on  a  chair  and  an  interesting  book  in  my  hand.  I  drowse 
if  I  like,  I  think  of  nothing  fatiguing,  and  I  stay  alone.  That  is  my  own  hour, 
and  nobody  is  allowed  to  intrude  upon  it.  I  sometimes  shut  my  eyes  for  five 
minutes  at  other  times.  It  is  wonderful  how  much  good  a  brief  bit  of  rest  will  do 
to  a  woman. 

"As  to  my  looks,  I  bathe  my  face  in  hot  water  every  night  and  in  cold  water 
every  morning.  I  take  a  daily  bath.  I  eat  fruit  plentifully.  I  am  in  the  fresh 
air  at  least  two  hours  a  day. 

"  I  seek  and  enjoy  the  society'  of  the  young.  As  women  grow  old  they  should 
keep  in  touch  with  those  who  are  less  advanced  on  the  road  than  they.  Other- 
wise they  are  apt  to  grow  crotchetty  and  queer,  or  they  cling  to  their  own  opin- 
ions and  are  intolerant  of  their  juniors,  and  of  opposition.  Young  society  keeps 
us  fresh  and  young. 

"  Then,  and  more  than  all  except  one  thing  else,  I  do  my  work.  It  has  never 
yet  occurred  to  me  that  I  can  be  laid  on  the  shelf.  I  am  occupied  in  many  ways, 
and  I  do  my  daily  task  just  as  I  always  have,  without  seeking  to  be  released  on 
the  score  of  age. 

"And  the  one  thing  else?  It  is  simply  this:  I  trust  wholly  and  without 
reser\'e  to  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  my  heavenly  Father. 

"  'I  know  not  the  way  I  am  going, 
But  well  do  I  know  my  guide; 
With  a  child-like  trust  I  take  the  hand 
Of  the  mighty  Friend  at  my  side.* 

' '  Those  are  my  only  secrets. ' ' 


Thanksgiving. 

To-day  the  fields  are  reaped  and  shorn. 

The  fruits  are  gathered  in. 
And  shines  the  golden  light  of  morn 

On  wealth  of  barn  and  bin. 


396  THANKSGIVING. 

Dun  tints  lie  where  the  summer's  green 
Waved  at  the  south  wind's  breath; 

Bare  boughs  are  lifted,  stripped  and  clean, 
By  besom  touch  of  death. 

Along  the  brown  and  slumbrous  tide 
Float  down  the  withered  leaves, 

The  fields  are  naked  far  and  wide 
Where  late  were  bound  the  sheaves. 

A  touch  of  frost  is  in  the  air. 
The  nights  are  crisp  and  cold, 

The  Northern  Lights  like  torches  flare 
O'er  wintry  wood  and  wold. 

And  now  we  open  wide  the  door 
And  call  the  kith  and  kin 

To  throng  beneath  the  roof  once  more 
Till  all  are  gathered  in. 

The  white-haired  sire,  the  sturdy  son, 
The  blooming  boys  and  girls, 

Down  to  the  latest  little  one 
With  yellow  clustering  curls. 

About  the  table  meet  to-day, 
And  feast  with  joy  and  mirth; 

And  many  a  tender  word  they  say 
Around  the  radiant  hearth. 

And  thanks  they  give  to  God  above 
Whose  hand  upon  their  way 

Has  been  a  hand  of  constant  love 
And  led  them  to  this  day. 

For  blessings  more  than  tongue  can  tell 
The  household  praises  rise; 

The  strains  of  music  throb  and  swell 
And  climb  to  pierce  the  skies. 


THANKSGIVING.  397 

' '  God  save  the  commonwealth  ! ' '  they 

In  faith  that  God  will  hear, 
Since  never  prayer  was  sent  on  high 

To  reach  a  loveless  ear. 

"  God  save  and  bless  the  dear  home-land  ! 

God  save  our  flag  from  shame, 
God  keep  us  ever,  strong  to  stand 

A  nation  in  His  name. ' ' 

So,  from  its  dawn  to  sunset's  hour, 

We  keep  Thanksgiving  Day. 
For  sheaf  and  seed,  for  bud  and  flower, 

For  life  and  death  we  say, 

' '  All  glory  to  the  I^ord  of  Hosts  ! 

All  glory,  honor,  praise  !  " 
The  psalm  is  heard  on  all  our  coasts. 

Our  seas  and  inland  bays. 

A  nation  with  its  thousapds  brings 

To  God  its  homage  meet, 
And  here  its  mighty  choral  flings 

Low  at  Jehovah's  feet. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

The  Cost  of  Living. 

,VEN  when  it  is  most  economically  administered,  the  cost  of 
keeping  up  a  home  is  never  small.  The  late  Prince  Albert  once 
said  to  his  daughter,  afterward  the  Empress  Frederick  of  Ger- 
many, "  My  dear,  in  all  your  management  of  income  take 
care  that  5'ou  leave  yourself  a  margin."  This  excellent 
practical  advice  finds  itself  always  in  order  to  people  of  all 
ranks  and  conditions,  because  the  joy  of  life  is  largely  in  having 
a  margin  beyond  what  we  require  for  the  present  wants  of  the  day. 
But  it  is  not  possible  or  practicable  for  every  one  to  have  much  of  a 
margin.  Still,  the  person  who  values  peace  of  mind,  self-respect  and  length  of 
days  will  rigidly  keep  within  his  or  her  income.  The  margin  is  needed  for  such 
expenses  as  doctors'  bills,  the  payment,  if  necessary,  of  a  trained  nurse  in  cases 
of  severe  or  prolonged  disease  in  the  family,  the  mounting  up  of  drugs  and  pre- 
scriptions, and  many  things  along  that  line  of  which  we  never  count  the  cost  until 
the  enemj'  is  upon  us. 

Then,  too,  carpets  and  curtains  wear  out.  Even  with  the  greatest  care  these 
yield  to  the  incessant  patter  of  children's  feet  and  to  the  ordinary  effects  of  house- 
hold usage.  After  a  while  you  find  that  j^ou  must  slip  the  carpet  away  from 
the  edge  of  the  stairs  to  remove  the  strain  of  constant  wear.'  You  find 
certain  breadths  of  your  carpet  growing  shabby  and  threadbare,  and  j^ou  shift 
them  round  to  go  under  a  bed  or  under  a  table.  By  and  by  you  have  to  put  a 
braided  rug  or  a  mat  over  a  thin  place  in  the  carpet  to  hide  it. 

Your  furniture  requires  new  covering.  The  springs  of  your  bed  sag  in  the 
middle;  the  mattress  itself  must  be  made  over,  and  this  periodically  to  keep  it  in 
perfect  condition.  Paper  and  paint  grow  dingy.  The  fences  need  repair. 
Outside  and  in  it  costs  a  great  deal  to  keep  up.  Every  week  of  her  life  the  house- 
keeper must  go  into  every  closet  and  corner  and  fight  not  only  dust  but  the 
predatory  moth.  Children  are  forever  wearing  out  shoes  and  growing  out  of 
clothes.     The  cost  of  school-books  is  large. 

The  cost  of  food  must  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  things  which  the  good 
housekeeper  wil    not  consider  the  right  field  for  economy.     I  once  overheard  a 

(398) 


THE   COST   OF  LIVING.  399 

conversation  in  a  public  conv-ej^ance.  Two  women  elegantly  attired  sat  near  me. 
One  of  them  said  to  the  other,  "  You  notice  my  silk  gown  and  my  sealskin  cloak, 
how  beautiful  they  are."  And  indeed  they  were;  the  silk  was  thick  enough  to 
stand  alone,  and  the  sealskin  was  a  dream  of  beauty.  "  Yet,"  she  said,  "if  I 
have  not  saved  and  skimped  and  contrived  to  get  them,  nobody  ever  did.  We 
have  not  had  a  beefsteak  in  our  house  for  a  year.  I  have  fed  the  children  on  picked 
codfish,  and  it  has  done  just  as  well,  and  in  fact  I  have  saved  and  scraped  in  every 
direction.  But  now,  you  see,  it  pays,  because  here  I  have  these  beautiful 
garments. ' ' 

I  did  not  hear  the  friend's  reply,  but  I  thought  at  what  a  cost  this  woman 
had  adorned  her  person — the  cost  of  her  children's  flesh  and  blood,  very  likely  of 
her  husband's  vigor  and  strength.  One  must  choose  where  to  be  frugal  and 
where  to  be  lavish.  Money  is  not  well  saved  which  is  taken  from  the  table  and 
put  upon  one's  back.  There  is  indeed  a  certain  vulgarity  in  making  everything 
else  yield  to  dress,  since,  after  all,  dress  should  be  the  expression  of  one's  best 
self  and  should  never  be  fine  or  elegant  beyond  one's  means. 

But  this  was  not  what  I  started  to  say  when  I  began,  which  was,  rather,  that 
save  as  we  may,  the  cost  of  a  home  is  no  slight  thing.  There  are  many  odd  jobs 
to  be  done  that  must  be  paid  for,  unless  the  children  do  them.  There  are  always 
accidents  happening  on  which  we  did  not  count,  and  the  only  way  in  which,  for 
most  people,  the  home  can  be  engineered  safely  through  all  its  perils  and  made 
and  kept  a  cozy  and  beautiful  nest,  a  castle  to  which  the  good  people  retire  in  all 
emergencies,  is  by  having  everybody  take  hold  together  and  work  for  it  with 
heart  and  hand.  Children  should  understand  that  the  home  is  worth  a  great  deal 
to  them,  and  they  should  be  taught  how  to  take  care  of  "certain  parts  of  the 
household  work. 

Some  time  ago,  when  visiting  a  beautiful  school  in  New  England,  where  the 
work  is  carried  on  by  the  scholars  themselves,  I  was  struck  with  the  sweet 
atmosphere  and  the  delicate  consideration  which  prevailed  there.  In  the  house  in 
which  I  was  a  guest  the  work  was  divided  between  twenty  young  ladies,  each  of 
whom  had  her  definite  share.  Never  have  I  sat  at  a  table  more  beautifully 
appointed,  nor  have  I  in  any  house  eaten  more  delicious  food.  The  sweet  com- 
posure of  the  young  women  who  had  cooked  the  dinner,  and  of  those  who 
quietly  rose  from  their  places  at  certain  times  to  remove  the  plates  and  bring  on 
the  dessert,  was  a  beautiful  thing  to  see.  I  found  that  it  was  possible  for  the 
girls  in  this  school  to  obtain  an  excellent,  all-round  education,  because  the  cost 
of  housekeeping  was  minimized,  and  because  they  all  took  hold  of  it  and  merrily 
helped  it  along. 

So  in  our  home,  if  the  mother  did  not  usually  think  it  too  much  trouble  to  teach 
the  boys  and  girls  how  to  help  her,  their  help  would  be  most  willingly  given;  but  it 


400 


THE   COST   OF   LIVING. 


"  The  most  beautiful  hands  are  those  which  work  for  others." 


is  often  harder  to  show  a  person  how  to  do  a  thing  than  it  is  to  do  the  thing  one's  self. 
And  there  are  not  a  few  noble  women  who  never  succeed  in  training  their 
daughters  to  follow  in  their  footsteps,  for  two  reasons — one,  that  they  will  not 


THE   COST   OF   LIVING.  401 

take  the  trouble,  and  the  other  that  they  are  weakly  unwilling  to  tax  their 
young  daughters.  They  think  the  pretty  white  hands  of  the  maiden  should  be 
saved  from  any  disfiguring  task;  they  want  the  daughter  to  enjoy  her  day  of 
youth  in  ease  and  luxury.  They  really  put  their  daughters  in  a  wrong  light, 
since  the  good  daughter  is  never  so  happy  as  when  helping  the  good  mother. 

Then,  too,  there  is  no  need  why  housework  should  ruin  even  a  faultless 
hand.  It  is  quite  possible  to  .save  the  hands  b)'  the  use  of  mops,  India  rubber 
gloves,  and  such  contrivances;  and  a  little  care  taken  either  in  doing  housework, 
gardening,  or  any  other  manual  occupation  will  keep  the  hands  ladylike  and 
fair.  The  most  beautiful  hands  in  the  world  are  those  which  work  for  others,  and 
in  all  our  household  labor  we  should  reflect  that  we  are  giving  of  ourselves  for 
others'  need,  and  making  others  happy  at  perhaps  a  little  cost  to  ourselves.  But 
what  of  that!  Love  counts  no  service  hard;  love  is  of  all  things  generous  and 
self- forgetting. 

In  looking  over  our  accounts  for  a  year  which  has  passed  we  may  often  see 
where  we  were  injudicious  in  expenditure,  and  equally  we  may  regulate  affairs 
better  for  the  year  which  is  to  come.  No  one  should  despise  small  savings. 
Five  cents  here,  two  cents  there,  a  penny  in  another  direction,  and  before  one 
knows  it  a  dollar  is  gone.  Every  one  has  noticed  how  quickly  a  dollar  bill  melts 
away  once  it  is  broken.  Divide  it  up  into  silver  and  it  is  .soon  a  vanishing 
quantity.  We  must  not  regulate  our  expenditures  by  the  incomes  of  those  who 
are  endowed  with  longer  purses  than  we.  Each  family  for  itself  must  consider 
what  it  can  spend,  what  style  of  living  it  can  afford,  and  then  with  true  American 
pluck  go  to  work  to  make  the  most  of  its  resources. 

I  heard  a  lady  the  other  daj^  discussing  the  furnishing  of  a  room  with  a 
woman  whose  sum  set  aside  for  the  arranging  of  a  parlor  was  quite  small.  The 
lady  .said,  "Do  not  try  to  furni.sh  your  whole  parlor  at  once,  but,  as  you  can 
manage  it,  by  one  piece  at  a  time.  A  good  lounge,  a  good  chair,  curtains  of  some 
•dainty  stuff  which  will  wash,  by  and  by  a  clock  and  a  lamp — just  as  you  feel  you 
can  get  each  of  these — and  after  a  while  you  will  be  mistress  of  a  dainty,  pretty 
room  in  which  you  will  enjoy  entertaining  your  friends.  Above  all  things,"  said 
this  wise  coun-sellor,  "  do  not  delude  yourself  with  buying  furniture  on  the  plan 
of  buying  by  instalments. 

"  Nothing  is  more  flattering  and  specious  than  the  invitation  held  out  at  first 
for  this  kind  of  expenditure,  but  in  the  end  it  proves  a  millstone  around  one's 
neck.  There  may  come,  after  months  of  careful  saving  and  meeting  the  payment, 
a  time  when  it  is  not  easy  to  do  this,  and  then,  presto,  you  find  yourself  in  debt, 
and  the  furniture  man,  if  he  chooses,  may  ignore  all  you  have  paid  and  resume 
his  claim  upon  your  property.  Pay  for  things  as  you  go,  and  never  buy  anything 
for  which  you  cannot  at  the  moment  readily  pay  in  cash." 
26 


402 


THE   COST   OF   LIVING. 


The  buyer  who  buys  for  cash  has  a  great  advantage  over  the  buyer  who  pur- 
chases on  credit.  Merchants  like  to  have  credit  accounts,  but  they  reap  a  profit 
in  the  end  by  charging  larger  prices  or  in  some  way  managing  to  get  the  interest 
on  their  money.  The)^  besides,  count  on  the  fact  that  when  a  person  is  not  pay- 
ing cash  down,  he  or  she  is  apt  to  buy  more  lavishly  and  sometimes  to  purchase 
things  which  could  very  well  be  done  without.  In  calculating  the  cost  of  a  home, 
it  is  wise  to  make  it  an  invariable  rule  to  pay  as  you  go,  and  to  have  no  trouble- 
some debts  to  keep  you  awake  at  night. 

In  buying  dress  goods  there  is  an  advantage  in  choOvSing  those  which  will  not 
go  speedily  out  of  fashion.  Very  marked  plaids  and  stripes  or  colored  effects 
which  are  the  fashion  of  the  moment  are  less  economical  than  plain  colors,  quiet 
in  tone  and  of  good  quality,  which  may  be  turned  and  twisted  and  renewed  by 
different  trimming  for  a  long  time.  A  woman  who  cannot  afford  many  best  gowns 
should  choose  something  in  dark  blue  or  brown  or  black.  A  black  gown  always 
wears  well  if  of  good  quality,  and  you  are  not  remembered  by  it  as  j^ou  are  by 
something  more  pronounced  or  of  gayer  hue. 

I  sometimes  feel  a  little  sorry  for  the  younger  children  in  a  large  family,  because 
necessarilj'  they  are  obliged  to  wear  what  the  older  ones  outgrow.  A  young  girl 
once  said  to  me,  "  I  have  never  had  a  new  frock  3^et,  and  I  am  now  thirteen.  I 
always  have  to  wear  what  Susie  and  Kitty  are  done  with. ' '  The  mother  might 
occasionally  plan  to  let  the  little  girl  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  something  entirely  for 
herself,  even  if  the  elder  ones  that  season  manage  to  go  without  anything  par- 
ticularly new. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 
Correspondence. 

CORRESPONDENCE  forms  an  important  part  of  our  modem 
life.  We  take  less  time  for  letter-writing  than  people  did  for- 
merly, and  sometimes  it  seems  as  if  the  old  leisurely  epistle 
has  gone  out  with  the  stage-coach  of  our  fathers.  When 
postage  was  a  matter  of  very  great  moment  and  a  letter  cost 
anywhere  from  six  to  twenty-five  cents,  also  when  its  con- 
veyance was  a  matter  of  much  labor  on  the  part  of  those  who 
carried  it,  one  relay  of  horses  after  another  being  harnessed  to 
■^  the  mail-coach,  sometimes  when  an  armed  escort  was  necessary  to 
convey  it  through  a  hostile  country,  or  one  infested  with  banditti,  it 
seemed  hard]y  worth  a  person's  while  to  sit  down  and  dash  off  a  hurried  missive. 
People  somehow  had  more  time  in  past  days  than  there  seems  to  be  now.  Con- 
sequently, we  still  find  great  enjoyment  in  the  long  letters  which  were  written  by 
people  a  hundred  years  ago,  though  we  do  not  ourselves  indulge  our  taste  in  cor- 
respondence in  just  the  same  waj'. 

On  the  other  hand,  nothing  can  be  done  now  without  letter-writing,  and  the 
ability  to  write  a  good  letter  is  the  hall-mark  of  a  fine  education.  I,etters,  of 
course,  are  of  various  kinds.  There  is  the  business  letter,  which  must  be  short, 
concise  and  to  the  point,  with  no  waste  of  words,  and  with  the  utmost  clearness 
of  explanation.  There  is  the  formal  letter  of  invitation,  which  may  be  in  the  first 
person  or  in  the  third,  and  which  requires  an  answer  explicit  and  prompt,  since 
society  could  hardly  get  on  if  people  were  careless  with  regard  to  the  invitations 
which  they  receive.  There  is  the  letter  of  condolence  sent  to  the  house  of  sorrow. 
This  should  be  sympathetic  and  sincere.  There  is  the  letter  of  congratulation, 
when  some  happy  event  has  taken  place  in  a  friend's  family.  One  always  knows 
how  to  write  a  letter  saying  that  one  is  glad  of  the  birth  of  a  little  child,  or  of  the 
announcement  of  a  friend's  engagement,  or  of  any  other  thing  which  is  making 
life  dear  for  others. 

But  after  all,  the  correspondence  with  which  we  have  most  to  do  is  that 
which  goes  on  between  families  when  they  are  separated.  Nothing  so  strengthens 
the  family  bond  as  frequent  letters,  and  these  should  be  gossipy  and  full  of  small 

(403) 


404 


CORRESPONDENCE. 


details,  and  should  concern  themselves  with  just  the  sort  of  things  which  people 
talk  about  when  they  are  at  home.  If  your  son  has  left  home  and  is  making  his 
way  in  a  town  far  from  you,  sitting  at  a  boarding-house  table,  sleeping  in  a  hall 

bedroom,  finding  his 
pleasure  where  he  can, 
what  a  delight  it  is  to 
him  to  get,  every  week, 
the  long  letter  from  home, 
mentioning  the  people 
he  knows  there,  telling 
about  the  little  doings  on 
the  farm,  and  keeping 
him  in  touch  with  all 
that  life  of  which  he  was 
so  latel)-  a  part,  but 
which  now  seems  far 
away  from  him. 

It  is  a  good  plan  in 
answering  a  letter  to 
look  over  the  one  which 
you  last  received  and  see 
that  3'ou  are  not  over- 
looking any  questions 
which  have  been  asked. 
Bear  in  mind,  too,  that 
a  letter  going  abroad  will 
take  a  week,  two  weeks, 
or  a  month,  to  reach  its 
destination,  and  do  not 
be  too  much  troubled 
when  you  receive  a  letter 
from  a  friend  in  foreign 
parts  if  she  tells  you  of 
illness  or  accident  which 
may  now  be  three  weeks 
back,  and  from  which 
she  has  probably  emerged 
by  this  time.  Never  write  an  angry  letter.  If  you  are  distressed  about  anything, 
let  it  be  what  it  will,  or  in  any  way  troubled  in  mind,  say  to  yourself,  "I  will 
wait  till  to-morrow,"  especially  if  you  are  resentful  or  vindictive,  because  the 


THE   LETTER. 


CORRESPONDENCE.  405 

written  word  has  a  certain  permanence.  And  while  it  may  be  to  you  an  escape- 
valve  to  sit  down  and  write  out  your  indignation,  the  letter  in  the  hand  of  friend 
or  foe  may  be  a  destroying  and  wounding  weapon. 

Above  all  things,  never  write  to  anybody  that  which  you  would  not  be  willing, 
in  case  of  necessity,,  to  have  shown  to  all  your  friends  and  blazoned  upon  the  four 
winds.  People  should  never  carry  on  a  clandestine  corre.spondence,  or  lower 
themselves  by  writing  that  of  which  they  should  be  ashamed  were  it  known.  Of 
conrse  nobody  who  is  decent  in  any  conceivable  circumstances  ever  sends  an 
anonymous  letter.  The  anonymous  letter  is  a  stab  in  the  dark,  and  the  sender 
of  it  is  beneath  contempt.  The  recipient  of  such  a  letter  should  immediately  burn 
it  up  and  pay  no  heed  whatever  to  its  message. 

About  children's  letters  people  should  behave  with  a  high  sense  of  honor.  I 
have  often  been  very  much  disturbed  to  see  a  mother  open  the  little  letter  which 
has  come  to  her  child,  as  if  the  child,  like  every  one  else,  did  not  enjoy  breaking 
the  seal  of  her  own  letter.  It  is  well  that  a  mother  should  supervise  the  corres- 
pondence of  her  children,  should  know  to  whom  her  daughter  and  son  write  and 
from  whom  they  receive  letters,  but  the  letters  themselves  once  sanctioned  by 
parental  consent  should  be  the  child's  own  property. 

For  ordinary  correspondence  one  should  use  good  white  paper,  unruled,  of 
fine  quality,  with  envelopes  to  match  which  are  large  enough  to  easily  admit  the 
paper.  Eccentricities  of  note-paper  are  to  be  avoided,  also  tinted  papers  or  those 
which  have  curious  devices.  If  you  can  afford  it,  5'^our  monogram  at  the  top  of 
your  sheet,  or  your  residence  in  engraved  .script,  is  a  finishing  touch  to  the  letter 
which  adds  a  certain  elegance,  but  these  are  by  no  means  necessary.  Also,  one 
may  seal  a  letter  with  her  own  individual  seal  if  she  chooses,  though  the  only 
essential  thing  is  to  have  good  mucilage  and  enough  of  it,  so  that  the  letter  may 
safely  go  on  its  way. 

We  begin  a  letter  usually  with  "  My  dear  Mr.  Smith,"  or  "  My  dear  Mrs. 
Jones,"  if  the  letter  is  a  formal  one.  A  shade  of  greater  intimacy  is  given  by  the 
use  of  "  dear  "  without  the  personal  pronoun.  In  writing  to  a  business  firm  we 
say  "Messrs.  Hastings  &  Sons,  Gentlemen,"  or  else  "Messrs.  Howard  &  Co., 
Dear  Sirs."  A  very  formal  note  may  be  written  thus.  "  Mrs.  Elbert  Carruthers, 
Dear  Madam."  To  our  intimate  friends  we  say  "  Dearest  Emeline,"  or  "  Dear 
Margaret,"  or  any  other  term  we  please.  We  may  sign  a  letter  "  Yours  respect- 
fully," "Yours  cordially,"  "Faithfully,"  "Truly,"  "  vSincerely,"  or  in  almost 
any  manner  we  please,  avoiding  very  affectionate  and  demonstrative  term.s  except 
to  those  who  are  our  very  intimate  friends,  exceedingly  dear  and  beloved. 

Always  in  sending  a  business  letter  which  requires  an  answer  be  sure  to 
enclo.se  stamps  for  return  postage.  This  is  a  little  matter  which  is  often  neglected. 
One  cannot  be  too  careful  about  it,  however,  because  if  people  have  to  pay  postage 


4o6 


CORRESPONDENCE. 


on  many  letters  which  do  not  concern  them  it  amounts  in  the  course  of  a  year  to 
a  very  serious  tax. 

Always  write  your  post-office  address  very  plainly  at  the  top  of  your  letter. 
A  business  letter  is  also  dated  at  the  top.  A  letter  of  friendship  or  of  ceremony 
is  dated  at  the  bottom,  and  the  date  is  written,  not  given  in  numerals.  The  sig- 
nature of  a  letter  should  be  extremely  plain  and  should  be  written  out  invariably 
in  full.  Your  friends  cannot  be  expected  to  remember  the  little  details  of  your 
residence,  and  your  signature  means  yourself.  Do  not  sign  your  pet  name,  except 
to  very  intimate  friends  or  members  of  your  own  family.  Be  always  to  the  out- 
side world  Edward  or  Caroline  or  Frances  or  Charlotte,  or  whatever  your  name 
may  be. 


CHAPTER  LV. 


Ill-Temper  at  a  Premium. 

|T  really  seems  sometimes  as  if  the  most  amiable  people  are  obliged 
in  this  world  to  go  to  the  wall.  Very  often  the  one  who  has  least 
claim  to  be  considered  is  the  one  who  gets  her  own  way,  simply 
because  it  is  easier  to  avoid  a  fuss  and  to  slip  on  quietly  than  to 
make  a  constant  fight  for  one's  rights.  Which  of  us  has  not 
l^^i^iw  ^^^^  injustice  in  the  household  because  some  one  person  is  aggres- 
A^i^im^  sive  and  determined,  and  makes  it  uncomfortable  for  the  rest  if  he 
or  she  is  not  indulged  ? 

Sometimes,  but  very  rarely  indeed,  it  is  the  mother  whose 
caprices  and  spells  of  temper  are  the  terror  of  her  family.  I 
was  deeply  impressed  and  greatly  shocked  when  quite  young,  a  guest  in  the  home 
of  a  school  friend,  to  find  that  her  mother  simply  scolded  everybody  from  morning 
till  night,  the  shrill  voice  seldom  ceasing,  and  husband,  children  and  servants 
alike  the  objects  of  her  constant  shower  of  abuse.  Accustomed  to  my  own 
gentle  mother  and  to  low  tones  and  kind  words  as  part  of  human  nature's  daily 
food,  it  astonished  me  to  notice  how  calmly  my  friend's  household  went  on  its 
way,  paying  little  attention  to  the  termagant  who  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and 
who  indeed  was  treated  with  great  respect  by  ever>^  one.  Later  the  poor  woman 
became  insane  and  ended  her  days  in  an  asylum,  the  probability  being  that  her 
malady  was  coming  on  at  the  time  when  I  was  under  her  roof. 

Seriously,  one  should  stop  to  think  whether  or  not  in  the  interest  of  one's 
reason  it  would  not  be  well  to  lay  a  restraining  hand  upon  violence  of  temper  and 
upon  its  expression.  Certainly  the  cross  and  disagreeable  person  does  not  always 
become  insane,  but  there  is  no  sanity  in  ungoverned  passion,  and  this  is  a  fact 
worth  remembering. 

In  a  very  sensible  little  article  by  Mrs.  Van  de  Water  I  find  these  observations: 
"  Look  at  the  mother  and  housewife  as  she  goes  about  her  tasks,  and  observe  how 
often  she  utters  an  impatient  exclamation,  how  often  she  sighs  over  her  servants' 
shortcomings,  how  often  she  starts  nervously  at  a  noise  from  one  of  the  children, 
and  each  time  that  she  loses  control  over  herself,  her  nerves,  her  temper,  she  loses 
just  a  little  nervous  force,  just  a  little  physical  well-being,  and  moves  a  fraction 

(407) 


4o8  II.I.-TEMPER   AT   A   PREMIUM. 

of  an  inch  farther  on  into  the  path  that  leads  to  premature  old  age  and  invalidism. ' ' 
The  trouble  with  many  women  is  that  they  waste  emotion  over  trifles,  and  are  as 
much  distressed  over  a  small  accident  as  over  a  great  casualty. 

To  return  to  our  subject,  it  is  occasionally  the  petted  daughter  of  the  house, 
the  one  for  whom  everything  is  done  and  on  whose  slightest  wish  everybody  waits, 
who  becomes  what  might  be  called  the  household  monopolist.  She  does  not  exactly 
storm  about,  but  she  grows  depressed,  and  when  she  is  in  a  fit  of  the  sulks  she 
makes  the  atmosphere  around  her  decidedly  uncomfortable  and  blots  the  sunshine 
of  the  home.  Let  the  sinner  be  whoever  it  may,  father,  mother,  sister  or  brother, 
she  gains  or  he  gains  an  undue  prominence  and  is  far  too  well  treated  when,  lest 
there  should  be  trouble,  a  premium  is  put  upon  his  or  her  moods  and  tenses. 

Sometimes  the  only  way  to  tranquillity  in  this  world  is  by  the  way  of  battle. 
There  are  times  and  seasons  when  it  is  right  to  fight  in  order  that  one  may  have 
peace,  and  while  we  should  be  careful  that  we  do  not  invite  conflict  and  strife,  yet 
if  it  must  come  it  is  better  to  have  it  than  to  give  up  everything  and  allow  the 
person  with  violent  temper  to  reign  undisputed  monarch  of  all  he  or  she  surveys. 

People  make  light  of  little  quarrels,  overlooking  the  fact  that  no  harmony  is 
perfect  which  is  frequently  disturbed,  and  that  ho  one  can  ever  entirely  forget  the 
effect  of  broken  relations.  The  strain  has  come  once,  it  may  come  again.  Life 
is  so  short  and  love  is  so  precious,  that  it  is  far  better  always  when  we  can  to  go 
on  through  life  drawing  only  upon  the  heavenly  forces,  making  the  angels  our 
ministers,  and  putting  far  from  us  whatever  agitates  and  disturbs  composure. 


J.  P.  McCaskey,  in  an  admirable  essay,  says: 

"  In  the  Russian  Department,  in  the  Art  Building  of  the  Chicago  Exposition, 
at  the  north  end  of  the  gallery,  there  hung  a  picture  that  attracted  much, 
attention,  and  that  has  since  been  reproduced  so  often  as  now  perhaps  to  be 
more  widely  known  than  any  other  of  the  fine  paintings  upon  those  walls.  It  told 
its  familiar  story  simply  and  pleasantly,  and  one  lingered,  as  loath  to  go,  and 
came  back  day  after  day  to  look  upon  it,  drawn  by  a  spell  deeper  than  the  painter's 
art.  And  it  has  taken  its  place  in  the  picture  gallery  of  memory  of  untold 
thousands. 

"She  comes  hurrying  from  the  kitchen,  where  she  has  been  eagerly  and 
lovingly  busy,  hand  and  head  and  heart  at  the  service  of  an  honored  guest  — 
the  most  hospitable  woman,  shall  we  say,  in  all  Bethany,  and  one  of  the  best 
and  most  helpful  to  know,  and  to  love,  and  to  live  with?  So  at  least  He 
seemed  to  think  who  knew  to  their  depths  the  hearts  of  those  about  Him,  and 
longed  for  human  sympathy  and  affection.      If  we  may  judge  from  the  record, 


ILI.-TEMPER   AT   A   PREMIUM.  409 

as  we  read  between  the  lines,  He  seemed  to  regard  this  family,  two  sisters  and 
one  brother,  as  very  attractive  people,  and  among  the  best  He  knew  in  Palestine. 

"  '  Master,  bid  her  that  she  help  me.  Mary  is  a  good  enough  girl,  but  she's 
leaving  me  to  do  everything  just  now.  I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about, 
but  it  seems  as  if  she  can't  tear  herself  away  from  it.  You  are  tired  and  hungry, 
and  I  want  to  have  something  for  you  to  eat  as  soon  as  possible.'  And,  laughing, 
she  kept  on:  *  Mary  is  a  good  cook  and  a  good  housekeeper,  and  always  ready  to 
lend  a  hand  when  anything  is  to  be  done,  but  now — well,  I've  called  her  two  or 
three  times  and  she  doesn't  seem  to  hear  me.     Bid  her  that  she  help  me.' 

"He  smiled  as  He  looked  into  her  truthful  eyes,  noted  her  quick,  half- 
impatient  manner  which  He  knew  so  well,  and  the  tones  of  her  pleasant  voice 
that  had  in  them,  one  can  readily  imagine,  the  faintest  suggestion  of  fault- 
finding. '  Martha,  sit  down.  You  are  one  of  the  best  women  in  the  world; 
but  Mary  is  better  than  you  are.'  '  I  know  that,'  she  said  impulsively;  '  I  always 
knew  that.  But  I  would  like  her  now  to  help  me  get  this  dinner. '  And  she 
laughed  good-naturedly  at  Mary's  pleasant  disclaimer  that  Martha  was  the  '  be.st 
woman  '  she  knew- — for  they  were  friends,  you  know,  as  well  as  sisters,  and 
appreciated  and  loved  one  another.  '  Don't  worry  about  the  dinner,  Martha  ' — 
and  in  His  fine  eyes  there  beamed  a  light  that  spoke  more  than  words  might  say 
— '  nor  much  about  anything  else.  All  that  in  good  time.  We  were  talking  of 
Eternity.  But  one  thing  is  needful. '  And  the  sisters  together  soon  spread  the 
generous  table  for  their  welcome  guest. 

"  Christ  was  no  far-off  teacher,  cold  in  manner,  didactic  in  method,  but  a 
beloved,  and  trusted,  and  familiar  friend,  good  to  live  with.  What  a  compliment 
did  He  pay  to  those  women  and  their  brother  in  His  habit  of  going  to  their 
pleasant  home  in  Bethany  ! 

"Good  to  live  with  !  Of  all  people  in  the  world,  let  this  be  said  of  wife  and 
mother,  then  of  husband  and  father,  sister  and  brother. ' ' 


That  piety,  devotion  to  one's  Father  in  heaven  and  to  one's  spiritual  nature, 
should  ever  have  what  may  be  described  as  a  seamy  side,  a  side  of  rough  edges 
and  tangled  knots,  seems  at  first  an  impossibility .  Yet  it  is  a  matter  of  personal 
observation  that  many  good  people,  pious  to  the  very  core  of  their  being,  are, 
unfortunately,  so  imperious,  so  exacting,  or  so  unreasonable,  that  they  do  not 
commend  their  religion  to  others,  that,  in  effect,  their  daily  conduct  dissipates  the 
impression  which  their  sincerity  and  enthusiasm  in  right  beliefs  ought  to  make 
on  the  minds  of  their  associates. 

"Living  epistles,  known  and  read  of  all  men,"  is  the  pithy  phrase  which 
describes,  as  in  a  single  strong  picture,  what  the  child  of  God  should  be  to  his  own 


4IO  ILL-TEMPER  AT   A   PREMIUM. 

generation.  Whenever  one  who  is  earnestly  striving  after  a  deeper  intimacy  with 
Christ,  a  more  entire  consecration  of  body,  soul  and  spirit  to  that  service  which  is 
perfect  freedom,  becomes  aware  that  he  or  she  is  antagonizing  friends  rather  than 
winning  them,  is  growing  irritable  in  the  family  and,  therefore,  showing  a  wrong 
example  to  childhood,  it  is  time  to  see  whether  the  piety  has  not,  needlessly,  a 
seamy  side. 

An  autobiography,  recently  published,  shows  in  what  appears  to  be  an  almost 
unconscious  revelation  the  eflfect  on  a  boy  of  an  unhappy  religious  ideal  on  the 
part  of  his  elders.  One  of  these,  an  aunt,  concerning  whose  entire  singleness  of 
aim  and  devoted  piety  there  cannot  be  a  doubt,  so  misunderstood  the  sensitive 
little  fellow,  and  so  constantly  snubbed  him,  that  after  the  interval  of  a  lifetime, 
in  his  deliberate  judgment,  the  man  grown  old  sets  down  his  recollections  thus: 

"The  hours  after  five  o'clock  in  my  much- longed-for,  eagerly-counted  holi- 
days were  now  absolute  purgatorJ^  Once  landed  at  the  rectory  (where  with  his 
mother  the  boy  daily  dined)  I  was  generally  left  in  a  dark  room  till  dinner  at 
seven  o'clock,  for  candles  were  never  allowed  in  the  winter  in  the  room  where  I 
was  left  alone.  After  dinner  I  was  never  permitted  to  amuse  myself  or  to  do  any- 
thing, except  occasionally  to  net.  If  I  spoke,  Aunt  Esther  would  say  with  a 
satirical  smile,  'As  if  you  ever  could  say  anj'thing  worth  hearing,  as  if  it  was 
ever  possible  that  any  one  could  want  to  hear  what  you  have  to  say. '  If  I  took 
up  a  book  I  was  told  instantly  to  put  it  down  again;  it  was  'disrepect  to  my  uncle.' 
If  I  murmured.  Aunt  Esther,  whose  temper  was  absolutely  unexcitable,  quelled 
it  by  her  icy  rigidit3^  Thus,  gradually,  I  grew  into  the  habit  of  absolute  silence 
at  the  rectory,  a  habit  which  it  took  me  years  to  break  through  and  I  often  still 
suffer  from  the  want  of  self-confidence  engendered  by  reproaches  and  taunts  which 
never  ceased.  For  a  day,  for  a  week,  for  a  year,  they  would  have  been  nothing, 
but  for  always,  with  no  escape  but  my  own  death,  or  that  of  mj'  tormentor!" 

Such  a  presentation  of  childish  misery,  acute  and  long-enduring,  caused  by 
the  mistaken  and  repressive  discipline  of  a  good  woman,  leads  to  serious  thought. 
In  our  day  juvenile  training  is  less  rigorous  than  formerly,  discipline,  indeed,  is 
.very  much  relapsed,  the  pendulum  having  swung  in  the  other  direction,  but  there 
may  be  among  the  women  who  read  this  paper  some  who  need  to  be  reminded  not 
to  let  their  good  be  evil  spoken  of,  not  to  provoke  children  or  others  dependent  on 
their  words  for  home  sunshine,  to  wrath  or  to  sorrow  by  displaying  religion  which 
has  a  seamy  side. 

If  there  is  a  seamj'  side,  why  not  wear  it  within,  ourseh^es  bearing  the  fret 
and  friction  of  our  short  temper,  our  folly,  our  errors,  our  regretted  impulses,  but 
never  inflicting  the  results  of  these  on  the  household  or  on  our  companions  in 
society.  Enter  into  thy  closet  and  shut  thy  door,  is  a  good  rule  for  the  Christian; 
there,   in   the   secret   of  the    Master's    presence,   confessing,  repenting,   gaining 


SOME  SUGGESTIVE   THOUGHTS.  411 

courage  and  strength  to  press  on,  with  a  light  on  the  face  and  love  in  the  speech 
and  gentleness  in  every  act. 

Here  are  some  suggestive  thoughts  by  Sallie  V.  Du  Bois: 

A  little  star,  shining  out  in  a  dark  night  upon  the  world,  seemed  to  find  its 
silvery  beams  lost,  and  had  almost  decided  it  was  not  worth  the  effort  any  longer. 
"  It  is  such  a  gloomy  night  and  there  is  not  another  star  visible  anywhere,  why 
should  I  shine  ?  I  cannot  penetrate  this  folding  gloom,"  said  the  star.  "But 
then  I  may  be  a  part  in  God's  great  plan,  and  if  so  I  ought  cheerfully  to  do  the 
best  that  I  can."  So  the  star  shone  on  all  the  long  hours  through,  and  the  little 
beams  it  cast  seemed  lost,  but  not  so.  A  mighty  ship,  tossed  about  upon  the 
ocean  bed,  beset  with  danger,  sought  guidance  by  the  star,  and  when  the  morning 
light  dawned  the  captain  turned  to  his  first  mate  and  cried  in  tones  of  cheer, 
"  Thank  God  for  the  light  shed  by  that  star;  it  has  taught  me  the  lesson  never  to 
despise  the  sum  of  small  things." 

A  tiny  snowdrop,  the  first  gem  of  spring,  lifted  its  wee  head  through  the 
soil  and  blossomed  in  obscure  beauty.  "  How  is  this,"  it  cried,  "there  are  no 
other  flowers  blooming  anywhere  that  I  can  see.  Is  it  possible  that  I  am  the  only 
one?  The  earth  looks  so  drear  and  desolate  I  have  a  great  mind  not  to  stay." 
The  north  wind  swept  along  with  its  cutting  blast  and  bent  the  stem  of  the  snow- 
drop until  it  touched  the  earth.  "  I  might  just  as  well  have  remained  under 
ground,"  said  the  snowdrop,  despairingly,  "  since  I  seem  doomed  to  die  alone 
and  unseen."  Just  then  a  boy  hurrying  along  the  path  paused  suddenly,  then 
then  stooped  and  lifted  the  snowdrop  tenderly.  "  Ah,  how  she  loved  these  beau- 
tiful flowers,"  he  said,  "  and  now  I  can  place  it  in  her  hand."  Guarding  it  from 
the  wind,  he  ran  on,  entering  the  door  of  an  humble  home,  and  there  in  the  cofiin, 
where  one  lay  sleeping  the  sleep  which  knows  no  waking,  he  placed  the  spotless 
flower.  He  had  not  shed  tears  before,  his  grief  had  been  too  deep  and  full  of 
anguish,  but  the  flower  was  the  symbol  of  death,  and  its  spotlessness  resembled 
the  life  his  loved  one  had  entered.  Then  the  tears  fell,  the  floodgates  were  opened 
and  the  snowdrop  was  bathed  in  the  precious  dew. 

"  What  is  the  use,"  said  a  fleecy  cloud;  "  I  hold  but  a  few  drops  of  water  at 
most,  and  they  would  be  lost  on  the  dry  and  parched  earth.  Why,  I  could 
scarcely  bend  the  head  of  a  lily,  or  revive  the  drooping  daisy.  Yet  I  am  part  of 
God's  great  plan,  and  what  I  can  do  I  must  do  promptly  and  uncomplainingly." 
So  a  few  scattered  raindrops  fell,  then  more  and  more,  until  mother  earth  put  on 
new  verdure  and  beauty  and  blossomed  anew. 

"  The  best  that  I  can,"  and  each  one  carefully  and  prayerfully  following  that 
rule,  would  cause  the  earth  to  resemble  the  primitive  state  and  the  kingdom  of 
Christ  would  not  be  far  removed. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

Domestic  Training. 

T  is  undoubtedly  well  for  ever)'  mother  to  train  her  daughter  in  the 
arts  of  housewiferj'-,  beginning  when  the  child  is  young  and  giving 
her  some  share  in  household  tasks  from  the  time  the  little  one  begins 
to  pick  up  her  own  playthings  and  put  away  her  own  clothing  after 
she  comes  in  from  play,  until  she  is  a  grown  woman.  We  are  fool- 
ishly heedless  often  as  regards  this  important  part  of  a  girl's  education. 
While  we  spare  no  pains  to  give  our  daughters  the  most  thorough 
school  training,  to  open  up  to  them  avenues  of  pleasure  and  profit 
in  various  accomplishments,  such  as  music,  painting,  and  what  used  to  be  styled  the 
ornamental  branches,  we  take  it  for  granted  that  a  knowledge  of  housekeeping  will 
come  by  itself  without  special  effort  on  the  part  of  any  one.  It  is  true  that  there 
are  girls  to  whom  cooking  and  managing  appear  less  difficult  than  to  others. 
Occasionally,  one  meets  a  young  woman  who  seems  to  be  a  born  cook  or  house- 
keeper; but  this  is  the  exception  rather  than  the  rule.  I  do  not  think  there  is 
anything  so  intricate  or  so  subtle  about  the  processes  of  the  culinary-  art  that  they 
cannot  be  readily  mastered  by  any  intelligent  girl  in  a  comparatively  brief  time. 
I  also  hold  that  a  thorough  intellectual  training  assists  one  in  manual  arts  of  every 
sort.  Mr.  Beecher  once  observed  that  an  educated  man  would  light  a  fire  better 
than  an  ignorant  man;  so  that  I  am  not  advising  any  mother  to  abbreviate  her 
daughter's  school  education.  What  I  am  pleading  for  is  this:  Let  the  daughter 
early  have  her  share  in  managing,  making,  mending,  and  do  whatever  is  to  be 
done  in  the  house.  If  necessary,  let  her  now  and  then  intermit  a  half-year  or  a 
year  in  her  school  course;  staying  at  home,  dropping  books  and  helping  mother; 
learning  practically  how  to  make  bread;  how  to  roast,  bake,  broil  and  boil;  how 
to  make  puddings  and  pies  and  cake;  something  about  the  chemistry  of  food; 
nourishing  diet  for  the  sick;  dainty  desserts, — everything,  in  short,  that  a  woman 
needs  to  know  in  order  to  properly  nourish  her  family.  I  have  seen  a  brilliant 
valedictorian  of  a  college  perfectly  helpless  and  lost  in  the  presence  of  a  sudden 
illness,  when  there  was  the  necessity  to  make  so  simple  a  thing  as  a  dish  of  gruel 
for  a  patient  who  could  eat  no  other  food.  This  ought  not  to  be.  A  woman 
should  be  capable  and  efficient  and  fitted  for  any  emergency,  and  it  is  her 
mother's  business  to  see  that  she  is  thus  fitted  for  life,  whether  she  marries  or 
remains  single. 

(412) 


DOMESTIC   TRAINING. 


413 


A  young  girl  should  know  how  to  direct  her  maids  intelligently,  whether  she 
personally  works  in  the  departments  which  they  undertake  or  not.     She  should 


A  chud's  task. 

know,  for  instance,  how  to  regulate  an  ordinary  family  washing;  should  under- 
stand that  table  linen  is  to  be  taken  by  itself;  that  fine  clothes  are  to  be  separated 


414  DOMESTIC   TRAINING. 

from  coarse  ones;  that  flannels  require  very  delicate  and  painstaking  treatment  if 
they  are  not  to  shrink  up  and  become  thickened  and  useless.  The  several  parts 
of  housekeeping  cannot  be  learned  in  one  day,  although,  as  I  have  said  before, 
any  woman  virho  gives  her  mind  to  them  can  acquire  them  without  a  very  long 
novitiate.  lyittle  by  little,  day  by  day,  the  daughter  growing  up  in  the  refined 
and  well-ordered  home  and  taking  some  share  of  its  care,  will  become  at  an  early 
age  a  good  housekeeper. 

There  is  an  art  in  buying  household  goods  to  advantage,  in  marketing,  in 
catering,  and  in  keeping  accounts.  The  latter  is  so  important  an  affair  that  all 
women  who  wish  to  have  happy  homes  sHould  serve  an  apprenticeship  to 
themselves  or  their  parents  in  this  one  department.  I^et  the  girl  begin  when  quite 
young  with  her  own  stated  allowance.  It  may  be  very  small  at  the  outset,  and 
she  should  know  just  what  expenses  it  will  cover.  She  should  not  be  allowed 
to  overrun  it.  If  she  foolishly  spends  the  whole  of  it  in  one  day  or  in  one  week, 
she  should  be  obliged  to  feel  the  inconvenience  of  no  cash  the  rest  of  the 
month.  As  she  grows  older  her  allowance  may  be  increased  and  may  be  appor- 
tioned so  that  it  will  gradually  enable  her  to  buy  her  own  clothing  and  to  take 
entire  charge  of  her  own  expenses. 

The  wife  of  a  New  York  millionaire,  presiding  over  a  magnificent  home  with 
a  very  large  establishment — coachman,  footman,  cook,  laundress,  waitress,  chamber- 
maid, seamstress,  lady's  maid,  nursery  governess,  boy-in-buttons,  etc.,  told  me  not 
long  since  that  she  had  rigidly  held  her  daughters  to  an  economical  management  of 
money.  She  began  when  they  were  little  tots,  giving  them  a  certain  weekly 
amount  for  their  spending,  increasing  this  by  degrees.  At  twelve  her  daughters 
were  taught  to  make  their  own  frocks  and  trim  their  own  hats,  and  were  given  a 
certain  amount  to  spend  on  their  carfare,  charity,  books,  and  such  items  of  dress 
as  ribbons,  gloves,  shoes  and  belts.  As  they  grew  older  the  allowance  became 
larger;  but  each  girl  in  that  family  was  more  carefully  trained  as  to  her  responsi- 
bility in  the  matter  of  money  than  are  most  girls  in  poor  families.  In  fact,  one 
usually  finds  that  thrift  and  forehandedness  are  more  conspicuous  in  the  families 
of  the  well-to-do  than  they  are  in  families  where  people  are  living  from  hand  to 
mouth.  Of  course  it  makes  a  difference  on  this  subject  of  spending  of  money  whether 
one's  home  is  in  an  obscure  country  district  or  in  a  large  town.  In  tovv^n  the 
temptation  to  spend  money  meets  you  on  every  side  and  is  well  nigh  irresistible. 
In  the  country,  remote  from  the  shops,  there  is  less  need  of  money,  and  people, 
fortunately  for  themselves,  can  get  along  with  very  much  less  in  the  way  of  dress 
and  of  other  articles  which  a  city  woman  considers  indispensable.  Whether  or 
not  we  have  much  or  little,  we  are  accountable  to  God  for  our  use  of  it,  and  even 
more  than  a  city  woman  does  the  woman  whose  home  is  in  the  country  need  to 
understand  all  the  intricacies  of  household  management. 


4i6  DOMESTIC  TRAINING. 

Away  back  in  the  days  when  David  was  fleeing  from  the  face  of  Saul,  there 
is  an  interesting  story  of  good  housekeeping  which  has  always  appealed  very 
strongly  to  me.  You  remember  that  David  was  at  that  time  an  outlaw  dwelling 
among  the  strongholds  of  Kn-gedi,  hiding  among  the  rocks  of  the  wilderness  in 
order  that  he  might  escape  the  jealous  pursuit  of  the  monarch  who  had  once  been 
his  friend,  but  was  now  his  enemy.  David  in  those  days  had  a  following  of 
several  hundred  young  men,  outlaws  like  himself,  and  they  lived  as  Robin  Hood 
in  a  later  period,  and  as  guerrilla  warriors  have  done  ever  since,  on  the  country 
in  which  they  were  in  ambush.  ' '  Now  there  was  a  man  in  Maon  whose  posses- 
sions were  in  Carmel;  and  the  man  was  very  great.  He  had  three  thousand 
sheep  and  three  thousand  goats."  The  wealth  of  that  day  in  a  pastoral  country 
was  always  in  the  number  of  a  man's  flocks  and  herds.  This  man  Nabal  was  a 
miser  and  a  churl;  but  he  had  a  wife  Abigail,  of  whom  we  are  told  that  she  was 
a  woman  of  good  understanding  and  of  a  beautiful  countenance.  The  story,  as 
told  in  the  Bible,  is  very  graphic.  David  heard  in  the  wilderness  that  Nabal  did 
shear  his  sheep.  And  David  sent  out  ten  j'oung  men  saying,  ' '  Get  you  up  to 
Carmel,  and  go  to  Nabal  and  greet  him  in  my  name :  And  thus  shall  ye  say  to 
him  that  liveth  in  prosperity,  Peace  be  both  to  thee,  and  peace  be  to  thine  house, 
and  peace  be  unto  all  that  thou  hast.  And  now  I  have  heard  that  thou  hast 
shearers :  now  thy  shepherds  which  were  with  us,  we  hurt  them  not,  neither  was 
there  aught  missing  unto  them,  all  the  while  they  were  in  Carmel.  Ask  thy 
5'oung  men  and  they  will  shew  thee.  Wherefore  let  the  young  men  find  favor  'a 
thine  eyes;  for  we  come  in  a  good  day:  give,  I  pray  thee,  whatsoever  cometh  to 
thine  hand  unto  thy  servants  and  to  thy  son  David. ' '  To  this  courteous  request 
Nabal  answered  churlishly  and  rudely,  "  Who  is  David?  and  who  is  the  son  of 
Jesse  ?  there  be  many  servants  nowadays  that  break  away  every  man  from  his 
master.  Shall  I  then  take  my  bread,  and  my  water,  and  my  flesh  that  I  have 
killed  for  my  shearers  and  give  it  unto  men,  whom  I  know  not  whence  they  be  ?  " 
David's  little  army  at  this  time  was  composed  of  no  less  than  six  hundred  hardy 
men,  and  at  once  four  hundred  of  these  girded  on  their  swords  and  started  with 
David  to  attack  Nabal  and  make  an  end  of  him  and  his  house.  In  the  meantime, 
however,  the  lady  of  the  manor,  hearing  of  her  husband's  churlishness  and  grufF- 
ness,  and  being  told  that  David  and  his  men  had  been  as  a  wall  of  protection  and 
defence  around  the  shearers  for  months  past,  determined  to  take  the  matter  into 
her  own  hands.  Indeed,  her  servants  said  to  her  very  plainly,  "  Now,  therefore 
know  and  consider  what  thou  wilt  do;  for  evil  is  determined  against  our  master, 
and  against  all  his  household:  for  he  is  such  a  son  of  Belial  that  a  man  cannot  speak 
to  him."  The  story  goes  on  to  tell  that  this  good  housekeeper,  Abigail,  made  her- 
self and  took  a  generous  provision  with  her  as  she  went  forth  to  meet  David — two 
hundred  loaves,  two  bottles  of  wine — not  our  modern  bottles,  but  great  leathern 


DOMESTIC   TRAINING.  417 

bags  filled  with  wine — five  sheep  ready  dressed,  five  measures  of  parched  corn,  a 
hundred  clusters  of  raisins  and  two  hundred  cakes  of  figs,  and  laid  them  on  asses 
and  thus  went  to  meet  the  coming  foe.  We  can  see  the  lady  riding  on  her  own 
beast  with  her  escort  of  retainers  going  before  and  surrounding  her  as  she  came 
down  by  the  covert  of  the  hill,  and,  behold,  David  and  his  men  came  down  against 
her  and  she  meets  them  in  the  way.  Significantly  it  is  said,  ' '  She  told  not  her 
husband  Nabal,"  but  she  intercedes  for  him  and  finds  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the 
3-outhful  chieftain  and  saves  her  husband  from  destruction.  Here  in  Abigail  was 
exemplified  all  the  qualities  of  the  good  housekeeper  and  the  great  lady,  and  one 
cannot  do  better  than  to  turn  back  and  read  from  beginning  to  end  the  twenty- 
fifth  chapter  of  first  Samuel,  and  there  study  her  character. 

Also  in  the  last  chapter  of  the  Book  of  Proverbs  we  find  set  down  by  the  pen 
of  inspiration  for  all  ages  and  centuries  the  description  of  a  lady.  "  Who  can 
find  a  virtuous  woman  ?  for  her  price  is  far  above  rubies.  The  heart  of  her  hus- 
band doth  safely  trust  in  her,  so  that  he  shall  have  no  need  of  spoil.  She  will  do 
him  good  and  not  evil  all  the  da3^s  of  her  life.  She  seeketh  wool,  and  flax,  and 
worketh  willingly  with  her  hands.  She  is  like  the  merchants'  ships;  she  bringeth 
her  food  from  afar.  She  risetli  also  while  it  is  yet  night,  and  giveth  meat  to  her 
household,  and  a  portion  to  her  maidens.  She  considereth  a  field,  and  buyeth  it: 
with  the  fruit  of  her  hands  she  planteth  a  vineyard.  She  layeth  her  hands  to  the 
spindle,  and  her  hands  hold  the  distaff.  She  stretcheth  out  her  hand  to  the  poor; 
yea,  she  reacheth  forth  her  hands  to  the  needy.  She  is  not  afraid  of  the  snow  for 
her  household:  for  all  her  household  are  clothed  with  scarlet.  Her  husband  is 
known  in  the  gates,  when  he  sitteth  among  the  elders  of  the  land.  She  maketh 
fine  linen  and  selleth  it;  and  delivereth  girdles  unto  the  merchant.  Strength  and 
honor  are  her  clothing;  and  she  shall  rejoice  in  time  to  come.  She  openeth  her 
mouth  with  wisdom;  and  in  her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness.  She  looketh  well 
to  the  ways  of  her  household,  and  eatetli  not  of  the  bread  of  idleness." 

In  this  old  chronicle  one  discovers  a  prophetic  eye  turned  to  the  business 
woman  of  our  own  day.  The  manysidedness  of  the  people  is  in  no  way  more 
apparent  than  in  the  flashlight  it  turns  from  time  to  time  on  the  possibilities  and 
capabilities  of  womanhood  in  every  age.  This  is  not  the  Oriental  woman  living 
her  slavish  life  as  man's  plaything,  or  her  bitter  life  as  his  drudge,  whom  we  have 
seen  depicted  by  the  pen  of  King  Solomon  of  old.  This  ideal  woman  and  splendid 
lady  is  a  person  versed  in  all  domestic  accomplishments  and  quite  able  to  hold  her 
own  in  any  company,  whether  composed  of  men  or  of  women. 

While  urging  upon  all  women  the  most  thorough  and  diligent  study  of  the 

indoor  arts,  let  me  say  that  there  is  peril  that  the  domestic  woman  shall  be  satisfied 

with  her  attainments  and  seek  nothing  further.     This  is  a  common  mistake.     One 

should  be  well  aware  that  it  is  not  enough  to  take  prizes  at  county  fairs,  or  to 

27 


4i8  DOMESTIC  TRAINING. 

keep  a  house  up  to  the  strictest  and  highest  standard  of  excellence  in  its  manage- 
ment. Also  the  good  housekeeper  must  avail  herself  of  the  tonic  of  fresh  air; 
must  be  able  to  hold  her  own  with  others  in  society,  and  must  seek  for  her 
daughters  the  beaut}'  and  bloom  of  perfect  health  as  well  as  the  charm  of  a  well- 
trained  mind  and  deft  hands  which  shrink  from  no  toil.  One  needs  in  these  daj^s 
all-around  women  to  make  home  life  ideal. 

I  cannot  close  this  bit  of  talk  without  urging  upon  parents  the  propriety  of 
allowing  and,  indeed,  insisting  upon  their  sons  being  useful  and  obliging  in  the 
home  as  well  as  the  daughters.  There  is  no  reason  upon  earth  why  a  lad  should 
not  use  his  strength  in  helping  out  in  household  tasks.  I  have  been  verj'  much 
impressed  with  the  manly  way  in  which  some  of  our  New  England  boys  take 
hold  and  help  their  mothers  and  sisters  in  whatever  work  is  to  be  done.  It  is  not 
at  all  uncommon  in  Vermont  and  New  Hampshire  for  the  son  of  the  house  to  take 
hold  pleasantly  and  assist  with  the  cooking  or  ironing  or  dishwashing  or  what- 
ever the  work  is  for  the  moment  pressing,  doing  it  quite  as  a  matter  of  course — 
the  same  lad  working  his  way  or  helping  to  pay  his  way  through  college,  coming 
out  after  a  while  an  honored  man  and  very  likely  climbing  so  high  in  future  life 
that  he  sits  in  the  governor's  chair  or  goes  to  Congress. 

It  is  not  a  surprising  thing  at  all  that  a  man  turning  his  attention  to  house- 
work should  do  it  well.  There  is  no  housekeeping  anywhere  that  surpasses  in 
thoroughness  that  of  sailors  on  board  a  man-of-war.  The  whiteness  of  the 
vessel's  decks,  the  brightness  of  its  brasses  and  the  accuracy  about  it  shames  our 
more  careless  home  housekeeping.  Whenever  men  really  master  a  thing  they 
usually  master  it  perfectly,  and  if  your  little  son  objects  to  assist  you  in  making 
beds,  or  washing  dishes,  you  have  only  to  say  to  him  that  soldiers  and  sailors  do 
that  sort  of  thing  as  a  matter  of  course.  We  do  not  need  to  be  told  that 
men  excel  in  everything  which  they  seriously  turn  to  do.  Our  choice  of  tailor- 
made  gowns  is  merely  one  straw  which  shows  how  we  appreciate  the  excellence  of 
a  man's  fitting  and  sewing.  A  friend  of  mine  has  a  man  milliner  who  comes 
around  at  certain  times  in  the  year  and  trims  all  the  bonnets  of  the  household, 
doing  it  beautifully,  and  in  India,  the  missionaries  tell  me  that  all  their  sewing 
is  wonderfully  well  done  by  the  men,  who  think  nothing  of  making  most  beautiful 
gowns  for  the  English  and  American  ladies;  taking  them  apart,  altering  them  and 
doing  whatever  is  necessary,  with  a  skill  and  exactness  unknown  to  our  own 
dressmakers. 

Surely  in  this  age  of  the  world  we  do  not  need  to  be  told  that  men  and  women 
must  stand  abreast.  That  if  a  man  would  be  wholly  fine  and  noble  he  must  have 
in  him  something  of  the  woman  heart,  and  that  the  woman,  to  be  complete,  must 
share  some  masculine  virtues.  Not  in  vain  did  our  Father  in  heaven  set  children 
together  in  families — brothers  and  sisters  side  by  side,  that  they  might  all  together 


Ut9) 


420  DOMESTIC  TRAINING. 

learn  the  lesson  of  mutual  daily  self-sacrifice,  their  motto  always  being,  "  In  honor 
preferring  one  another."  It  shows  us  beforehand  what  heavenly  life  will  be. 
Alas,  that  it  is  so  often  low  and  pitiful;  that  we  let  creep  into  it  the  little 
trivialities,  and  discord  and  jealousness,  cowardice,  meanness  and  sins  of  ill-temper 
and  other  qualities  which  are  sordid  and  contemptible.  More  and  more  we  need 
to  feel  that  if  we  would  live  after  the  Christian  pattern  and  rise  to  the  full  standard 
of  Christian  womanhood  and  manhood,  we  must  put  self  and  sin  aside  and  become 
more  and  more  like  our  blessed  Lord. 

We  cannot  do  better  than  to  go  back  in  our  home  life,  in  our  social  life,  and 
everywhere,  to  the  thought  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  Our  dear  Lord  said: 
"Blessed  are  the  poor  inspirit:  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Blessed 
are  the  meek:  for  they  shall  inherit  the  earth.  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart:  for 
they  shall  see  God.  Blessed  are  the  peacemakers:  for  they  shall  be  called  the 
children  of  God. ' '  He  told  us,  too,  to  lay  not  up  for  ourselves  treasures  upon 
earth,  where  moth  and  rust  doth  corrupt  and  where  thieves  break  through  and 
steal;  but  to  rather  lay  up  treasures  in  heaven,  because  where  the  treasure  is 
there  will  the  heart  be  also. 

To  those  of  us  who  are  tempted  to  worry  over  the  trivialities  and  troubles  of 
the  day,  He  said:  "  Take  no  thought  for  your  life,  what  ye  shall  eat,  or  what  ye 
shall  drink;  nor  yet  for  your  body,  what  ye  shall  put  on.  Is  not  the  life  more 
than  meat,  and  the  body  than  raiment  ?  And  why  take  ye  thought  for  raiment  ? 
Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field,  how  they  grow;  they  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin: 
And  yet  I  say  unto  you,  That  even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like  one 
of  these.  Wherefore,  if  God  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the  field,  which  to-day  is,  and 
to-morrow  is  cast  into  the  oven,  shall  He  not  much  more  clothe  you,  O  }'e  of 
little  faith  ?  Therefore  take  no  thought,  saying,  What  shall  we  eat  ?  or,  What 
shall  we  drink?  or,  Wherewithal  shall  we  be  clothed?  for  j-our  heavenly  Father 
knoweth  that  ye  have  need  of  all  these  things.  But  seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of 
God,  and  His  righteousness;  and  all  these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you.  Take 
therefore  no  thought  for  the  morrow:  for  the  morrow  shall  take  thought  for  the 
things  of  itself.     Sufl&cient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof." 


CHAPTER  LVII. 
Education  for  Life. 

iO  every  5'outh  and  maiden  there  arrives  a  moment  fraught  with 
intense  interest  and  most  important  in  its  bearing  on  the 
future.  It  is  the  moment  of  the  first  flight  from  the  nest. 
Life,  hitherto  guided  and  guarded  by  parental  care  and  wis- 
dom, is  henceforth  to  be  a  matter  of  individual  responsibility 
and  concern;  the  man  is  to  do  his  own  work  and  answer  for 
himself,  the  woman  is  grown  up  and  cannot  longer  be  subject 
to  authority  with  the  docility  of  a  little  child.  Parents  are 
often  slow  to  perceive  the  dawning  of  this  pregnant  hour,  par- 
ticularly in  the  case  of  daughters.  Nevertheless,  the  hour 
Strikes,  and  cannot  be  ignored. 

Educators,  professors  and  school  masters  and  college  presidents  tell  us  that 
they  have  found  in  the  course  of  their  experience,  that  boys  look  forward  to  and 
prepare  for  this  hour  long  before  girls  even  think  of  it.  A  boy's  profession  or 
trade  or  calling  is  a  matter  of  discussion  in  the  family  councils  while  yet  the  boy 
is  in  kilts  and  knee-breeches. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  be?"  asked  Mr.  Thackeray  of  the  little  Lawrence 
Hutton. 

'A  farmer,  sir,"  replied  the  laddie,  making  his  decision  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  as  children  will  do,  rather  than  be  floored  by  the  unexpected. 

"Well,  my  little  man,"  said  the  great  author,  laying  his  hand  kindly  on  the 
small  head,  "whatever  you  are,  be  a  good  one." 

The  question  at  least  was  typical,  and  the  natural  inquiry  to  be  addressed  by 
a  man  to  a  boy.  Less  frequently  are  similar  questions  addressed  to  little  girls. 
From  the  time  when  a  boy  begins  attendance  at  school,  through  his  college 
days,  if  he  take  his  college  course,  and  after  that  till  he  is  fairly  launched,  his 
training  is  in  one  direction,  it  is  intended  to  fit  him  for  success  in  business,  for 
making  his  mark  upon  the  world,  for  standing  in  the  ranks  of  men  and  hammer- 
ing away  at  whatever  task  is  set  him  to  do.  Therefore  a  boy's  bent  toward  any 
particular  thing  is  studied  and  he  is  assisted  intelligently  to  gain  his  end.  When 
it  is  time  for  him  to  go,  the  mother  may  shut  herself  up  in  her  chamber  to  pray, 
and  a  few  hot  tears  may  drop  on  the  pages  of  her  New  Testament,  but  she  does 

(421) 


422  EDUCATION   IN  I.IFE. 

not  oppose  his  step.  She  would  be  ashamed  of  a  son  who  did  not  go  forth  and 
take  his  place  and  do  a  man's  work  in  this  stirring  age. 

If  father  and  mother  are  wise  they  will  not  try  to  force  their  sons  against 
their  inclination  into  paths  of  parental  choosing.  Will  and  John  have  a  right  to 
select  for  themselves.  If  Will  is  an  artist  born,  with  music  thrilling  in  his  soul, 
or  the  power  to  paint  mountains  and  seas,  at  the  end  of  his  fingers,  it  is  folly  to 
compel  him  to  go  and  stand  behind  a  counter  and  measure  yards  of  cloth  and 
weigh  out  bags  of  coffee,  even  if  that  is  the  father's  business,  to  which  Will  ought 
to  be  the  heir. 

If  John  is  a  predestined  merchant,  or  draughtsman,  or  lawyer,  or  doctor, 
don't  bring  argument  and  persuasion  to  bear  on  him  to  bring  him  into  the  gospel 
ministry.  Men  are  suflSciently  handicapped  in  this  crowded  race  of  life  without 
obliging  them  to  carry  clogs  of  a  blimdering  choice  from  the  initial  start.  Help 
the  boy  to  discover  what  he  is  fit  for  and  then  let  the  home  training  and  discipline 
be  of  a  character  to  assist  him  on  his  way. 

Girls,  these  same  educators  to  whom  I  have  alluded  tell  us,  are  less  steadily 
directed  during  their  period  of  study  and  preparation,  and  are  less  strictly  con- 
fined to  straight  and  narrow  lines.  A  girl  may  be  almost  anything  in  these  days, 
a  journalist,  a  lawyer,  a  doctor,  a  minister,  a  business  woman,  a  stenographer,  a 
teacher;  there  is  no  door  shut  any  longer  in  her  face.  She  is  eager  to  earn  money. 
She  is  unwilling  to  stay  at  home  in  idleness.  Her  mother  does  not  always  need 
her,  and  to  do  a  little  sewing,  a  little  cake  baking,  a  little  church  work,  to  spend 
her  time  in  trivialities  does  not  please  our  nineteenth  century  girl.  For  her  there 
is  the  hour  of  flight  from  the  nest. 

But  nature  is  strong  and  will  exact  reprisals  and  penalties  to  the  uttermost 
farthing,  and,  whatever  may  be  our  theories,  the  fact  remains  that  a  girl  cannot 
enter  the  lists  on  exactly  equal  terms  with  a  man.  Born  to  be  the  mother  of  the 
race,  her  physical  equipment  must  not  be  overlooked.  That  delicate  machinery  of 
her  body,  kept  in  order  by  "  the  rhythmic  check"  of  a  periodical  condition,  which 
renews  her  in  strength  and  in  beauty,  is  never  to  be  ignored.  Whatever  she  may 
do  or  may  omit  to  do  she  must  take  into  account  her  physical  organization.  And 
whatever  harvests  she  may  reap  in  the  crowded  fields  of  life,  no  sheaves  can  ever 
be  gathered  in  her  arms,  one-half  so  rich  and  full  and  sweet,  as  those  which  are 
hers  when  she  is  wife  and  mother.  The  queenship  of  home!  To  no  woman  ever 
born,  in  any  condition  of  society,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  can  there  be  a 
fate  so  fortunate  as  to  be  loved  and  cherished  in  a  true  man's  heart,  to  be  a  good 
man's  honored  wife. 

For  this  vocation  a  woman  has  need  of  an  all-round  preparation,  different 
from  that  which  a  man  requires  for  his  work.  If  her  flight  from  the  home  be  a 
necessity,  it  is  simply  as  a  means  to  an  end,  in  most  instances.     She  makes  her 


EDUCATION   IN   I.IFE.  423 

excursion  into  the  office,  or  shop,  or  factory,  but  it  is  an  excursion  only,  more  or 
less  experimental,  and  by  and  by,  if  she  be  among  the  happiest  of  Eve's 
daughters,  she  finds  her  mate,  and  settles  down  with  him  to  home-building  of 
her  own. 

Having  said  this,  even  though  it  seem  a  trifle  inconsequent  and  more  than 
a  trifle  contradictory,  let  me  go  on  to  advise  every  girl  to  be  the  mistress  of  some 
bread-winning  art  which  will  be  in  her  hand  as  a  tool,  or  as  a  weapon,  as  a  shelter 
and  a  defence  when,  if  ever,  the  days  come  in  which  neither  father  nor  husband 
can  stand  between  her  and  want.  A  girl  will  none  the  less  make  a  perfect  wife 
because  she  is  an  accomplished  typewriter  or  an  admirable  saleswoman,  an  efficient 
secretary,  or  a  successful  journalist.  Should  her  husband  die  leaving  his  family 
witliout  adequate  provision  against  poverty,  should  he  be  ill  and  unable  to  work, 
should  the  wolf  growl  ominously  near  the  door  in  a  season  of  hard  times,  the  wife 
will  be  the  better  off"  who  knows  her  capabilities  and  who  possesses  something 
which  can  be  utilized  in  the  world's  crowded  marts.  And  if  she  never  marry,  and 
thousands  upon  thousands  of  most  attractive  women  never  do  marry,  she  should 
have  some  ability  to  earn  money,  if  hers  is  the  need.  A  poor  girl  requires 
no  more  than  a  rich  girl  in  these  days  of  rapid  and  often  unforeseen  transitions 
to  have  thorough  training  in  some  definite  direction. 

If  she  is  to  teach,  she  must  have  her  college  diploma,  if  she  would  be  a 
kindergartner,  her  certificate  of  fitness  in  a  course  of  study  creditably  finished, 
if  she  would  play  or  sing  she  must  have  devoted  years  to  technique,  if  she 
would  find  a  foothold  anywhere,  she  must  be  able  to  show  herself  a  proficient 
in  what  she  has  aimed  to  undertake. 

A  young  man,  as  a  rule,  exceptionally  charming  in  manner,  and  one  whose 
advantages  from  early  childhood  have  been  of  the  best,  said  to  me  the  other  day: 
"It  is  no  longer  expected  of  a  man  that  he  shall  rise  and  give  his  seat  to  a  woman 
in  a  public  conveyance.  He  gives  his  seat  only  to  women  whom  he  knows,  or 
whom  he  is  escorting.  A  man  is  a  fireak  who  rises  every  time  he  sees  a  woman 
standing  and  proffers  her  his  seat." 

A  day  or  two  later  I  was  talking  with  a  gentleman  whose  habits  and  manners 
were  formed  two  generations  ago.  This  man,  considerably  past  seventy -five  years 
of  age,  said  to  me,  ' '  Madam,  during  my  stay  in  your  city,  now  covering  a 
fortnight,  I  have  not  once  had  a  seat  in  any  car  or  omnibus."  I  said,  interroga- 
tively, ' '  I  suppose  you  have  happened  to  travel  in  the  rush  hours,  or  have  found 
yourself  in  crowded  conveyances."  "  Oh,  no,"  he  said,  "  but  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  remain  seated  while  I  see  women  standing,  and  in  every  instance  I  have 
been  obliged  by  my  own  sense  of  fitness  to  rise  and  give  my  seat  to  women  both 
old  and  young',  although  I  admit  that  I  have  seen  many  young  and  strong  men 
quietly  seated  reading  their  papers.     I  think,  madam,  that  there  is  a  decline  of 


424  EDUCATION   IN   LIFE. 

gallantry,  and  that  the  young  men  of  to-day  are  not  brought  up  so  well  as  we 
were  in  an  earlier  period." 

My  heart  warmed  to  the  courtly  old  man,  on  whose  lips  was  the  law  of 
kindness,  and  in  whose  gracious  suavity  and  elegant  formality  there  lingered  that 
peculiar  grace  which  we  denominate  "courtesy  of  the  old  school."  Yet  as  I 
mentioned  the  whole  affair  at  my  table  at  home,  I  found  myself  confronted  by  the 
younger  people  with  the  observation  that  this  is  an  age  of  intense  energ}-  and 
competition,  and  that  men  who  have  been  working  all  day  in  New  York,  or  who 
are  compelled  much  of  the  time  by  their  business  to  stand  on  their  feet,  are  really 
quite  as  much  in  need  of  seats  as  women,  who,  perhaps,  are  only  out  for  a  little 
shopping  or  an  excursion  of  pleasure.  This  seemed  to  me  a  begging  of  the 
question,  but  it  appeared  to  satisfy  my  juniors,  who  said  that  in  these  days  women 
do  not  claim  of  men  any  special  politeness  on  the  score  of  sex;  that  all  women  ask 
is  justice,  and  that  gallantry  has  gone  out  of  fashion. 

Doubtless  the  entrance  of  women  into  multiform  fields  of  business  where  thej^ 
compete  with  men  as  wage-earners,  added  to  the  other  fact  that  women  have 
really  crowded  men  out  from  places  which  they  formerly  considered  their  own, 
and  this  added  again  to  the  other  fact  that  we  are  all  too  hurried  and  too  worried 
and  too  flurried  to  be  as  polite  as  we  ought,  may  be  an  explanation  of  the  matter. 
But  it  is  a  fact  to  be  regretted,  that  serenity  and  leisure  and  soft  tones  and  gentle 
manners  are  no  longer  prized  as  once  thej^  were  by  thousands  of  people. 

We  would  all  do  well  to  consider  our  ways  in  this  regard.  Wherever  there 
is  a  place  particularly  designated  as  the  property  of  women,  as,  for  example,  the 
ladies'  cabin  in  a  ferryboat,  we  might  respectfully  suggest  to  our  brothers,  hus- 
bands and  sons  that  there  at  least  mothers,  wives  and  sisters  should  be  permitted 
to  take  seats  before  they  are  pounced  upon  by  the  stronger  sex.  As  it  is,  one  does 
not  find  that  the  ladies'  cabin,  morning  or  evening,  affords  any  resting-place  for 
wearied  women,  or  for  the  woman  who  has  her  day's  work  before  her.  Men 
crowd  in  there  precisely  as  they  crowd  in  everj'where  else.  They  push  and  hustle 
and  elbow  and  forget  the  decorum  which  one  might  expect  when  women  are 
present,  so  that  a  football  field  in  an  animated  contest  is  not  ver>'-  different  from 
the  terminus  of  the  elevated  railroad  at  the  City  Hall  in  New  York  about  six 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  or  any  other  point  of  crowded  resort. 

If  there  is  a  decline  of  gallantry,  may  we  not  hope  for  a  reaction  ?  Will  it  not 
be  possible  for  the  mothers  of  to-day  to  so  train  the  small  boys  who  are  now 
coming  on,  that  they  may  excel  in  good  breeding  the  grown  men  of  the  present 
time  ?  Certainly  something  must  be  done,  or  Americans  will  soon  lose  the  prestige 
and  the  fair  fame  which  up  to  a  recent  date  have  been  theirs,  and  they  will  no 
longer  be  able  to  claim  the  proud  distinction  of  being  always  polite  and  deferential 
to  women. 


EDUCATION   IN   LIFE.  425 

There  is  so  much  in  daily  life  to  try  one's  nerves  and  temper  that  it  is  not 
always  eas}^  to  preserve  one's  cheerfulness.  Moods  are  contagious;  one  unhappy 
person  in  a  family  without  any  active  effort  can  destroy  the  pleasure  of  all  the 
rest.  We  do  not  always  remember  this  and  so  we  give  way  to  causes  for  depres- 
sion, and  we  do  not  bear  ourselves  as  bravely  as  we  might  when  things  are  going 
wrong  with  us.  It  is  a  good  rule  to  keep  one's  troubles  in  the  background  of  life, 
in  the  background  of  thought,  bringing  to  the  front  only  that  which  is  cheerful 
and  sunny.  To  some  temperaments  buoyancy  is  not  difficult.  Whatever  may 
happen  to  keep  them  down,  they  bob  up  again  like  corks.  Others  have  inherited 
a  tendency  to  gloom,  or  have  cultivated  in  themselves  an  indifference  to  the  com- 
fort of  those  around  them,  the  result  being  that  they  are  not  the  most  agreeable 
companions  in  the  world. 

The  person  whose  outlook  is  cheerful  always  impresses  others  unconsciously 
and  elevates  the  tone  of  all  whom  she  meets.  In  mj^  childhood,  a  little  lady  used 
to  visit  in  my  father's  house.  Her  coming  was  hailed  with  acclamations  by  the 
children  and  grown  people  alike.  We  never  knew  beforehand  about  her  visits.  She 
simply  would  arrive;  and  whether  she  came  on  a  bright  day  or  a  dark,  she  broiight 
a  cheerful  atmosphere  with  her.  I  remember  that  she  was  married  from  our 
home;  the  first  wedding  I  ever  attended;  and  I  still  recollect  my  childish  interest 
in  the  preparations  and  have  in  mind  the  shade  of  the  bride's  changeable  silk 
gown.  Her  marriage  brought  her  many  new  duties,  among  others  the  care  of 
step-children;  and  in  the  course  of  a  long  and  eventful  life  she  had  man}-  sorrows; 
but  she  lived  to  a  great  age  and  a  few  days  before  the  illness  which  carried  her 
swiftly  and  gently  away  to  the  other  life,  she  again  paid  me  a  visit  in  my  home. 
The  little  old  lady  was  still  as  erect  as  in  her  girlhood.  She  walked  with  a 
peculiarly  quick  step  and  her  laugh  was  as  ready  and  as  spontaneous  as  in  the 
earlier  days.  All  her  life  she  had  known  the  advantage  of  a  cheerful  outlook, 
and  cheerfully  she  went  home  when  the  appointed  time  came  to  the  Father's 
house. 

We  may  have  observed  that  it  is  not  always  the  young  people  who  are  most 
cheerful.  One  would  think  that  girlhood,  so  bright  and  full  of  charm,  would  be 
always  the  happiest  time  in  life  and  that  a  young  man  with  his  fortune  all  to 
make  would  be  cheery  and  glad  in  the  mere  joy  of  living.  Singularly,  young 
people  often  give  way  to  melancholy  more  readily  than  do  their  elders,  who  have 
had  experience  of  life.  This  is  a  little  selfish  and  verv'  morbid,  and  its  only 
excuse  is  that  they  have  not  yet  known  that  discipline  of  patience  and  of  trj-ing 
experiences,  out  of  which  come  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness.  By  all 
means  let  us  try  to  preserve  in  ourselves  a  cheerful  disposition. 

■Ruskin  says  that  the  three  great  Angels  of  Conduct,  Toil  and  Thought,  are 
always  calling  to  us  and  waiting  at  the  post  of  our  doors  to  lead  us  with  their 


426  ^  JEAN'S   CIvEAR   CALL. 

winged  power  and  guide  us  with  their  unerring  eyes  by  the  path  which  no  fowl 
knoweth,  and  which  the  vulture's  eye  hath  not  seen.  These  great  angels  are, 
indeed,  leading  us  by  unseen  paths.  But  ^-outh  demands  to  see  the  wa}'  in  which 
it  must  walk,  whereas  our  Father  has  only  promised  us  light  for  one  step  at  a 
time.  The  urgent  necessity  for  us  all,  older  or  younger,  is  to  come  out  of  ourselves, 
not  to  narrow  the  circle  of  sympathies,  and  not  to  live  on  too  low  a  plane.  The 
moment  we  can  recognize  the  fact  that  we  have  responsibilities  and  duties  toward 
all  with  whom  we  come  in  contact,  and  toward  the  great  multitude  whom  we  may 
never  meet,  but  who  are  our  Father's  children  as  we  are,  that  moment  we  shall  be 
lifted  into  a  condition  in  which  unselfishness  will  become  the  natural  and  happy 
state  of  affairs.  Christian  life  is  easily  summed  up  in  entire  consecration  to  Christ, 
and  complete  surrender  of  self  in  glad  obedience  to  Christ's  will  and  childlike  faith. 


Jean's  Clear  Call 


* '  Jean  Eveleth  is  to  speak  this  morning. ' ' 
"Jean  Eveleth?  She  addresses  college  girls,  I  suppose." 
"  Yes,"  said  Mar>'  Armstrong,  who  was  folding  the  tablecloth  in  careful 
creases  and  talking  earnestly,  as  with  deft  touches  and  pats  she  put  the  little 
dining  room  in  order  for  the  day.  "  Yes,  Aunt  Lucy,  Jean  has  a  way  that  takes 
with  college  girls,  and,  indeed,  with  all  girls,  whatever  they  may  be  doing.  She's 
just  back  from  a  three  months'  trip  to  the  West,  and  she's  been  at  work  among 
factory  operatives  and  saleswomen  and  the  girls  who  curl  feathers,  hand  to  hand 
work  she  calls  it;  visiting  them  in  their  homes,  holding  meetings  every  evening 
and  getting  right  at  their  hearts  and  lives.  She  has  a  wonderful  gift  and  a  sort 
of  thrilling,  vibrating  voice,  which  appeals  to  you  and  holds  you  fast  whether  you 
care  for  what  she  says  or  not;  and  then  she's  so  dead  in  earnest.  Jean  has  a  clear 
call  to  this  sort  of  work,  and  I'm  told  she's  going  in  for  it  as  her  profession.  I 
certainly  hope  so,  for  she'll  be  a  success  and  a  credit  to  our  old  class." 

Mary  paused  a  moment  to  take  down  the  bird's  cage  and  fill  the  little  cups 
with  seed  and  water.  Her  aunt,  who  was  knitting  a  white  crochet  shawl,  which 
lay  in  a  great  fleecy  heap  on  her  lap,  kept  on  with  her  work,  her  needle  flashing 
in  and  out  of  the  soft  wool.  Aunt  Lucy  Erskine  was  habitually  a  silent  person; 
but  her  silence  was  not  of  the  grim,  tombstone  kind;  it  was  sympathetic  and 
made  you  feel  that  she  was  listening  and  thinking  over  what  you  said,  taking  it 
all  in,  even  when  she  did  not  speak.  There  is  a  difference  in  silence  as  there  is 
in  speech. 

When  the  bird  was  comfortable  for  the  day,  his  cage  swept  and  garnished, 
his  bath  removed  and  his  rations  provided,  Mary  returned  to  the  topic  which  was 


JEAN'S   CIvEAR   CALL. 


427 


uppermost  in  her  mind — ^Jean's  plans  for  the  future.     The  girls  had  been  class- 
mates and  chums  atWanover  College,  and  Mary  had  a  girl's  loyal  admiration  for, 


jjssat-v 


"  Visiting  them  iu  their  homes." 

and  fervent  championship  of,  a  brilliant  friend,  whose  discretion  she  somehow, 
down  in  her  sub-consciousness,  felt  might  be  questioned  by  conservative  people. 


428  JEAN'S  CLEAR   CALL. 

She  had  always  been  defending  Jean  as  long  as  she  could  remember,  though  Jean 
had  never  seemed  aware  of  it. 

"Jean  is  going  to  be  a  secretar\^  of  the  State  Association,  Aunt  Lucy,"  and 
Mary  snipped  off  a  dead  leaf  from  a  flowering  plant.  "She'll  have  her  head- 
quarters in  some  central  place  and  give  her  whole  time  and  talents  to  the  cause. 
Aren't  j'ou  coming  to  the  hall  to  hear  her.  Auntie?"  urged  Mary,  coaxingly. 

' '  Not  this  morning,  dear.  I  must  finish  my  shawl  and  get  it  off  for  Cousin 
Harriet's  birthday  gift.  You  can  tell  me  about  it  when  you  come  home.  Bring 
your  friend  back  to  luncheon.  I  don't  see  quite  how  Eleanor  Eveleth  can  spare 
Jean.  She  must  be  needed  at  home,  unless  Eleanor  is  much  stronger  than  she 
used  to  be. ' ' 

This  was  a  good  deal  for  Aunt  Lucy  to  say  at  once,  and  Mary  thought  of  it  as 
she  tripped  along,  a  gay  little  figure,  the  very  type  of  the  daughter  at  home, 
bowing  to  this  one,  smiling  to  that,  pausing  for  a  chat  with  an  old  gentlemen 
or  a  child,  and  reaching  the  hall  just  as  the  chairman  called  the  meeting  to 
order. 

The  hall  was  crowded  with  women  of  all  ages,  though  youth  predominated. 
Jean  Eveleth,  her  dark  eyes  alight,  her  sensitive  face  pale  but  flushing  with 
feeling  as  she  warmed  to  her  theme,  needed  no  inspiration  beyond  that  of  a  close- 
packed  and  responsive  audience  to  kindle  her  to  eloquence.  To  every  comer  of 
the  building  penetrated  the  sweet,  cultivated  voice;  the  words  were  well  chosen, 
the  argument  convincing,  for  Jean  was  herself  convinced,  and  that  is  half  the 
battle  when  one  deals  with  other  people. 

"I  plead  with  j'ou  friends,  sisters,  daughters,  mothers,"  said  the  speaker, 
with  insistent  emphasis,  "  to  live  the  beautiful,  noble,  unselfish  life.  We  are  ^11 
striving  for  our  own  pleasures,  our  own  ambitions,  our  own  ends.  Ever  before  us 
floats  a  radiant,  divine  ideal,  beckoning  us  with  the  wing-sweep,  the  flute-note  of 
an  angel  from  the  skies.  But  we  refuse  to  see.  Our  eyes  are  holden.  We  will 
not  hear.  Our  ears  are  deaf.  What'might  we  not  be,  what  might  we  not  do,  if 
we  could  but  heed  the  angelic  intimation,  if  we  would  arise  from  the  groveling 
present  into  the  serenities  of  a  future  which  the  present  can  build  ?  Let  us 
trample  self  and  ease  and  comfort  and  luxury  under  foot  and  go  forth  to  the 
larger,  fuller,  sweeter  life." 

Aunt  Lucy  had  slipped  into  the  meeting  after  all.  Needing  more  wool,  she 
had  gone  down  town  to  buy  it,  and  then  she  decided  to  spend  a  half- hour  in  find- 
ing out  what  there  was  in  Jean  Eveleth  which  so  bewitched  Mary  Armstrong, 
"  For,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  Mary  is  a  very  sensible  girl." 

Now,  away  in  a  shadow}'  corner  under  the  gallery,  the  little  old  lady  in  the 
mouse-colored  bonnet  and  Quaker  shawl  smiled  with  benevolent  amusement  as  she 
listened  to  the  eloquent  peroration  of  the  girl  on  the  platform. 


JEAN'S   CLEAR   CALL.  429 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense!  "  was  her  comment.  "She's  a  pretty  j-oung  creature 
and  she's  having  a  royally  good  time,  but  I'm  sure  Eleanor  Eveleth  could  find 
something  for  her  to  do  at  home." 

Aunt  Lucy,  walking  soberly  out  of  the  door  as  the  audience  rose  to  sing  a 
patriotic  hymn,  was  joined  by  an  old  friend. 

' '  That  child  has  a  clear  call  to  speak  in  meeting,  hasn't  she,  Lucy?"  said  this 
lady. 

"  So  it  would  seem. ' ' 

"  But  when  it  comes  to  unselfishness  and  trampling  one's  own  wishes  beneath 
one's  own  feet,  I'm  not  so  sure,"  the  friend  went  on.  "  It's  quite  evident  that 
Miss  Eveleth  is  in  her  element,  handling  such  crowds  as  hung  on  her  words 
to-day." 

"Well,  yes,"  said  Aunt  Lucy,  declining  to  give  any  further  opinion. 

Mary  was  a  little  late  for  luncheon,  but  she  had  been  obliged  to  wait  for 
Jean,  who  could  not  at  once  detach  herself  from  the  throng  of  delighted  people 
who  pressed  up  to  congratulate  her,  to  take  her  hand,  to  thank  her,  to  ask  her 
advice,  after  the  session  of  the  morning  was  over.  There  is  something  marvel- 
ously  intoxicating  in  this  brimming  goblet  of  success,  this  cordial  outpouring  of 
thanks  and  pleasure,  which  is  the  meed  of  the  attractive  speaker.  She  walks  on 
a  flower-strewn  path  and  the  air  around  is  sweet  with  the  silvery  throbbings  of 
bugles  inaudible  to  the  duller  ears  about  her. 

When  the  two  girls  came  in  to  luncheon  at  last.  Aunt  Lucy,  just  binding  off 
the  final  row  in  her  lovely,  soft  shawl,  rose  and  greeted  Jean  affectionately. 

"  You  look  like  your  mother,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  though  there's  a  hint  of 
John  Eveleth  in  that  chin.  I  knew  John  and  Eleanor  in  my  young  days,  so  I 
may  be  pardoned  if  I  see  them  again  in  their  daughter." 

"  Tell  me  about  your  parents,  Jean,"  said  the  old  lady,  at  the  table,  a  little 
later. 

"I'm  afraid  I  cannot  tell  you  very  much,  Mrs.  Kathcart,"  said  Jean,  with 
the  ghost  of  a  blush.      ' '  I  haven' t  been  at  home  in  three  months. ' ' 

"  Jean's  engagements  keep  her  on  the  road  most  of  the  time.  Aunt  Lucy," 
said  Mary,  bountifully  helping  the  guest  to  a  delicious  fricassee  and  passing  her 
the  white  puffs  of  raised  biscuit. 

"  But  I  suppose  your  mother's  health  is  better  than  it  used  to  be,"  pursued 
Aunt  Lucy. 

"No,  Mrs.  Kathcart,"  answered  Jean,  "mamma  is  as  fragile  as  a  bit  of 
porcelain.  She  is  almost  never  well,  and  the  care  of  a  large  establishment  tells 
on  her  terribly.  Mamma  is  a  very  conscientious  housekeeper,  and,  since  you 
know  my  father,  you  won't  think  me  undutiful  if  I  say  that,  though  the  best  and 
dearest  of  men,  he  is  a  little  bit  exacting.     Papa  won't  tolerate  an  imperfection 


430  JEAN'S   CLEAR   CALL. 

anywhere.     He  expects  mamma  to  run  the  house  as  he  runs  his  business,  and, 
with  such  help  as  she  can  get  on  the  Fells,  it  isn't  quite  easy." 

"Is  your  sister  Carolyn  at  home?  "  asked  Mrs.  Kat^-^art. 

"Oh!  didn't  you  know?  Carrie  is  married  and  1  home  is  in  Kansas. 
Madge  is  studying  medicine.  Aislie  is  a  perfect  fiend  about  music,  and  she 
practices  literally  ever}'  moment  she  can  secure.  There  are  three  boys  growing 
up  like  weeds;  the  girls  in  our  family  came  first." 

"Eleanor  has  her  hands  full,"  said  Mrs.  Kathcart.  "She  must  miss 
Carolyn.  I  think  I've  been  told  that  she  was  rather  domestic  in  her  tastes,  which 
is  a  good  thing  in  an  eldest  daughter. ' ' 

"Yes,"  said  Jean,  indifferently,  "  my  sister  Carrie  is  a  born  housekeeper  and 
drudge.  She  really  enjoys  mending  and  patching,  sweeping  and  dusting,  and 
making  a  good  loaf  of  bread.  We  always  frankly  called  Carrie  our  commonplace 
sister,  and  she  laughingly  accepted  the  situation." 

"  Well,"  said  Mary,  who  saw  a  glimmer  of  battle  in  Aunt  Lucy's  quiet  eyes 
and  wished  to  ward  off  the  sharp  word  she  feared,  for  the  usually  silent  person 
can  use  a  word  like  a  scimiter  on  occasion,  "  I  answer  to  that  description  myself, 
Jean.  There,  must  be  all  sorts  of  talents,  and  mine  are  in  the  trivial  round,  the 
common  task,  which  the  poet  says  furnish  all  we  ought  to  ask." 

"  But  what  if  one's  nature  cries  out  for  more,  for  a  wider  field,"  exclaimed 
Jean,  hurriedly;  "  what  if  a  girl  cannot  be  contented  unless  she  is  doing  good 
which  she  can  see,  attempting  something  which  tells  on  the  age,  helping  her 
period  ?  Then  is  she  to  hide  her  light  under  a  bushel  ?  What  if  she  have  a  clear 
call  to  do  work  in  the  world  ?  ' ' 

Her  eyes  shone  like  stars.  The  rose-hue  sprang  up  in  her  cheek,  she  looked 
as  she  did  when  addressing  her  audiences.     Aunt  Lucy  smiled. 

' '  One  does  not  always  discern  the  call  of  duty  at  once,  there  are  so  many 
voices  in  the  air.  But  I  am  sure  your  parents  are  glad  they  have  such  a  lovely 
big  houseful  of  girls  and  boys. " 

Mary  carried  Jean  to  her  room  to  rest  before  the  afternoon  session.  "  Aunt 
Lucy  is  old-fashioned,"  she  said,  half  apologetically. 

"  Yes,  she  does  not  quite  believe  in  new  fields  of  action  for  women.  I  can 
see  that.  She  is  not  sympathetic."  Jean  sighed  and  looked  plaintive.  Then 
went  on:  "But,  Mollie,  I  simply  cannot  vegetate  at  the  Fells,  doing  work  a 
servant  can  do,  idling  the  days  away  in  sewing  and  housework  and  managing. 
Mamma  is  a  darHng  and  I  wish  I  could  see  her  oftener  and  make  things  smoother 
at  home,  but  I  cannot  give  up  my  life  work.  It  would  not  be  right.  Am  I  to 
fold  my  talent  in  a  napkin  and  bury  it  ?  " 

A  peal  at  the  doorbell,  sudden,  clamorous,  urgent,  startled  the  girls  in  the 
midst  of  their  talk.'     A  moment  later  a  white-capped  maid  appeared  with  a  yellow 


JEAN'S   CLEAR   CALL.  431 

envelope  on  her  tray.     "Miss  Jean  Eveleth,   care  of  Mrs.  Kathcart,"    it  was 
addressed. 

Jean  opened  it,  but  not  with  the  frantic  haste  of  one  unused  to  telegrams. 
She  often  received  them,  and  they  did  not  make  her  nervous. 


Then  came  a  brief  letter.' 


Mary  watched  her,  wondering  at  her  composure.  A  telegram  was  an  upset- 
ting occurrence  in  her  experience.  But  as  she  looked  Jean's  face  changed  and 
paled  visibly.  The  little  slip  of  paper  quivered  in  her  hands.  She  sprang  to  her 
feet,  thrusting  the  despatch  toward  Mary,  who  read  this  laconic  message: 


432  JEAN'S   CLEAR   CALL. 

Mother  dangerously  ill.     Madge  has  pneumonia.     Come  at  once. 


John  Eveleth. 


"  Aunt  Lucy,"  said  Mary,  "  I  will  telephone  for  a  cab,  and  take  Jean  to  the 
station.  If  she  catches  the  next  train  she  can  be  at  home  by  nine  this  evening. 
We  will  send  her  things  by  express,  and  I  will  go  to  the  hall  and  tell  the  commit- 
tee that  she  has  been  sent  for  to  go  "home,  where  there  is  severe  illness. ' ' 

Prompt,  efficient,  equal  to  the  occasion,  Mary  did  all  that  was  called  for,  and 
S£BV  Jean  off,  waving  her  hand  cheerily  as  the  cars  whirled  out  of  the  station. 

A  week  passed  before  she  heard  from  her  friend.     Then  came  a  brief  letter: 

Dear  Mor,i,Y:  My  mother  and  sister  are  both  better.  I  have  had  a  terrible  fright. 
Madge  was  almost  gone  when  I  arrived,  and  mother  did  not  know  me.  We  have  two  trained 
nurses,  and  they  are  jewels,  but  I  am  captain  of  the  watch,  and  I've  heard  a  clear  call  to  stay 
at  home  and  look  after  my  loved  ones.  I've  been  a  selfish  girl,  Mary,  but  if  God  gives  them 
back  I'lr  try  to  make  up  for  past  mistakes.  Give  my  love  to  your  Aunt  I,ucy,  and  pray  hard 
for  your  devoted  and  penitent  Jean. 

"  I  knew  there  must  be  good  stuff  at  bottom  in  Eleanor  Eveleth's  daughter," 
said  Aunt  Lucy,  who  had  begun  another  shawl. 


^t 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 
The  Treatment  of  Casualties  and  Small  Ailments. 


^^N  English  writer  who  has  given  much  attention  to  the  subject 
tells  mothers  how  to  deal  with  the  small  accidents  and  ailments 
which  are  inevitable  in  the  bringing  up  of  a  family.  She  advises 
the  matron  to  be  provided  against  sudden  emergencies,  and  to 
have  on  hand  in  a  convenient  drawer,  or  on  a  shelf  in  the 
closet,  or  else  in  a  box  of  which  she  keeps  the  ke}^  a  supply  of  such 
requisites  as  a  pair  of  scissors,  three  or  four  large  needles  ready  with  thread  in 
them,  some  broad  tape,  some  absorbent  cotton,  a  roll  of  soft  old  linen,  some 
flannel  and  muslin,  some  sticking  plaster,  mustard  leaves,  tincture  of  arnica 
spirits  of  camphor,  etc. 

Added  to  these  simple  precautionary  appliances,  the  mother  must  lay  in  an 
ample  stock  of  something  not  to  be  purchased  at  a  chemist's  or  weighed  in  any 
ordinary  balances.  She  must  possess  presence  of  mind,  so  that  she  will  not 
become  excited  and  frightened  or  frantic,  in  short  will  not  lose  her  head,  when 
her  small  boy  is  brought  in  limp  and  bleeding,  or  her  little  daughter  burns  her 
hand  on  the  stove;  she  must  exercise  belief  in  Divine  Providence  and  feel  assured 
that  her  children  will  survive  numerous  catastrophes  and  accidents,  and  be  none 
the  worse  for  them  in  the  end.  That  cuts  and  bruises  and  burns  will  sometimes 
occur  is  almost  inevitable  in  a  large  and  active  household.  Do  not  take  your 
children  so  apprehensively  that  you  and  they  shall  fall  under  the  tyrannical 
despotism  of  fear. 

Cuts  must  be  treated  according  to  their  position  and  character.  A  cut  finger 
is  best  tied  up  in  a  rag  with  the  blood;  for  blood  is  very  healing.  If  a  cut  has  any 
foreign  substance,  such  as  glass,  gravel,  or  dirt,  in  it,  this  should  be  removed  by 
being  bathed  in  lukewarm  water  before  the  rag  is  put  on.  If  a  cut  is  severe,  the 
blood  should  be  examined.  If  it  is  dark,  and  oozes  slowly  from  the  wound,  it 
comes  from  a  vein,  and  is  not  serious;  if  it  is  bright  scarlet,  and  spurts  out  of  the 
cut  like  water  from  a  fountain,  it  comes  from  an  artery,  and  a  doctor  ought  at  once 
to  be  sent  for.  Until  medical  aid  can  be  procured,  the  wound  should  be  tightly 
bound,  and  the  artery  should  be  tightly  pressed  above  the  wound  and  nearer  the 
heart.  If  the  skin  gapes  from  a  cut,  the  edges  should  be  at  once  brought  to  their 
28  (433^ 


434       TREATMENT  OF  CASUALTIES  AND  SMALL  AILMENTS. 

proper  position  with  calendula  plaster.  If  in  a  little  time  it  begins  to  throb,  the 
plaster  should  be  removed,  and  a  rag  moistened  with  calendulated  water  laid  on 
the  place.  This  calendulated  water  is  most  useful  for  wounds  where  the  flesh  is 
deeply  cut  or  torn.  If  a  little  lint  is  soaked  in  it  and  put  upon  the  wound,  it  will 
in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  prove  most  beneficial.  It  is  made  by  mixing  thirty  drops 
of  the  pure  tincture  of  calendula,  which  may  be  bought  of  any  chemist,  with  half 
a  tumblerful  of  water.  A  cut  on  the  head  requires  great  care.  The  hair  should 
be  cut  all  round  the  place,  and  lint  dipped  in  calendulated  water  be  laid  upon  it. 
As  long  as  the  first  dressing  of  a  cut  remains  firm  and  gives  no  pain,  it  need  not 
be  touched. 

For  burns  and  scalds,  lime  and  linseed  oil  makes  an  efiective  dressing,  and 
they  are  often  relieved  by  constantly  repeated  applications  of  cold  water  in  which 
baking  soda  has  been  dissolved.  Flour  applied  to  a  burned  place  is  very  soothing. 
The  air  must  be  excluded,  and  flour  under  soft  cotton  does  this  eff^ectualh\  When 
one's  clothes  are  on  fire,  lie  down  and  roll  on  the  floor,  over  and  over,  or  let  the 
person  who  sees  the  mishap  cover  the  victim  as  quickly  as  possible  with  a  rug  or 
quilt,  wrapping  it  closely  to  stifle  the  flames. 

I  heard  a  pretty  story  the  other  day.  A  man  and  a  woman,  entire  strangers- 
to  each  other,  appeared  at  a  city  hospital  carrying  a  child  whom  neither  of  them 
knew.  An  electric  car  was  passing  along  the  street  and  a  lady  passenger  suddenly 
heard  screams  of  agony,  and  saw  a  child  on  fire  rush  out  of  a  house.  To  stop  the 
car  and  fly  to  the  child  was  the  impulse  and  the  work  of  a  few  seconds,  and  a  man, 
also  in  the  car,  followed  the  woman.  They  caught  up  a  blanket  which  was  fortu- 
nately drying  on  a  line,  rolled  the  sufierer  in  it,  and  brought  her  to  the  hospital, 
a  real  work  of  mercy. 

Bleeding  of  the  nose  looks  alarming,  but  is  seldom  dangerous — indeed,  it 
frequently  proves  beneficial,  except  in  those  cases  where  it  is  very  excessive.  To- 
stop  it,  let  the  patient  bathe  his  face  and  the  back  of  his  neck  with  cold  water.  If 
this  is  ineffectual,  let  him  raise  his  face,  lift  his  hands  high  above  his  head,  rest 
them  on  the  wall,  and  remain  in  this  position  for  a  few  minutes.  If  after  a  little 
time  the  bleeding  continues  with  unabated  violence,  procure  medical  aid  as  soon 
as  possible. 

Choking. — If  a  fish-bone  or  a  portion  of  food  sticks  in  the  throat,  and 
threatens  to  produce  suffocation,  first  give  a  smart  blow  between  the  shoulders. 
This  will  most  likely  dislodge  the  substance.  If  the  patient  can  make  any  attempt 
to  swallow,  put  a  large  lump  of  butter  in  his  mouth.  This  will  help  the  offending 
substance  to  pass  down  the  throat  more  easily.  If  he  cannot  swallow,  put  the 
finger  as  far  down  the  throat  as  possible,  and  endeavor  to  pull  the  bone  or  meat 
out,  or  tickle  the  throat  to  produce  immediate  vomiting.  Unless  there  is  prompt 
action,  life  may  be  lost. 


don't  bk  afraid,  onia'  hoi.d  fast. 


(435) 


436      TREATMENT  OF  CASUALTIES  AND  SMALL  AILMENTS. 

Stmgs  from  Insects. — After  being  stung  by  a  wasp  or  a  bee,  the  first  thing  to 
be  done  is  to  remove  the  sting.  This  may  be  done  with  a  pair  of  small  tweezers, 
or  the  sides  of  the  wound  may  be  pressed  with  a  small  key,  and  so  it  may  be 
squeezed  out.  Then  apply  to  it  immediately  spirits  of  camphor,  sal  volatile,  or 
turpentine,  or  failing  of  these,  rub  it  with  a  little  common  salt,  or  a  little  moist 
tobacco  or  snufi".  If  a  wasp  or  a  bee  stings  the  throat,  a  little  turpentine  should 
immediately  be  swallowed.  If  the  place  swells  very  much  and  looks  inflamed, 
it  should  be  bathed  with  arnica,  or  have  a  hot  white-bread  poultice  laid  upon  it. 
The  arnica  may  be  made  by  mixing  twenty  drops  of  the  pure  tincture  with  half  a 
tumblerful  of  water. 

Foreign  Substatices  in  the  Ear. — If  an  insect  gets  into  the  ear,  hold  the  head 
on  one  side,  and  fill  the  hole  with  oil.  This  will  kill  the  intruder  and  cause  it  to 
float,  when  it  may  be  removed.  If  a  bead  or  a  pea  gets  into  the  ear,  hold  the 
liead  down  on  the  other  side,  so  that  the  occupied  ear  is  under,  and  give  the  other 
ear  two  or  three  sharp  blows.  If  this  fails  the  ear  should  be  syringed,  but  it 
should  on  no  account  be  poked,  as  that  is  almost  sure  to  do  more  harm  than  good. 

Foreign  Substayices  in  the  Nose. — Give  a  small  pinch  of  snuff,  and  endeavor 
to  make  the  patient  sneeze.  If  this  fails,  put  one  finger  above  the  substance,  and 
gently  press,  it  to  make  it  come  down.  At  the  same  time  put  a  small  pair  of 
tweezers  into  the  nostril,  and  gently  open  it  across.  It  may  then  be  possible  to 
draw  the  substance  out.  But  ordinarih^,  when  either  eyes  or  nose  have  unfortu- 
nately any  foreign  body  in  them,  send  as  soon  as  you  can  for  the  doctor. 

A  Bite  from  a  Mad  Dog. — Rub  the  point  of  a  stick  of  lunar  caustic  (nitrate 
of  silver)  into  the  wound  for  fully  eight  seconds,  and  do  this  as  soon  as  possible, 
for  no  time  is  to  be  lost.  Of  course  it  will  be  expected  that  the  parts  touched  with 
the  caustic  will  turn  black.  If,  unfortunately,  it  should  chance  that  any  one  is 
bitten  by  a  dog  that  is  said  to  be  mad,  it  is  worth  while  to  chain  the  animal  up, 
instead  of  shooting  it  instantly,  for  if  it  should  turn  out  that  it  is  not  mad — and  a 
false  alarm  is  frequently  raised— the  relief  to  the  minds  of  all  concerned  is 
indescribable, 

A  Scratch  from  a  Cat.—K  scratch  from  a  cat  is  sometimes  not  only  painful, 
but  difficult  to  heal.  When  this  is  the  case,  the  limb  should  be  bathed  with  a  hot 
fomentation  of  camomile  and  poppy-heads,  and  a  hot  bread-and-water  poultice 
applied,  to  be  renewed  with  the  bathing  ever^'  four  hours. 

A  Bite  from  a  F<'w^w<?7^^  5'wa/^^.— Suck  the  wound  for  several  minutes.  No 
danger  need  be  apprehended  from  doing  this,  as  venom  of  this  sort  does  no  harm 
when  it  passes  into  the  stomach,  but  only  when  it  gets  into  the  blood.  Of  course 
the  saliva  need  not  be  swallowed.  Bathe  the  place  copiously  with  hot  water,  to 
encourage  bleeding,  and  tie  a  bandage  tightly  above  the  wound,  between  it  and 
the  heart.     Procure  medical  aid  as  soon  as  possible. 


TREATMENT  OF  CASUALTIES  AND  SMALL  AILMENTS.       437 

Accidental  Poisoning. — When  poison  has  been  accidentally  taken,  medical  aid 
should  be  instantly  sought.  As  minutes  may  be  of  value,  however,  prompt  meas- 
ures may  be  adopted  in  those  which  must  intervene  until  it  arrives,  and  the 
following  are  recomiiiended :  In  poisoning  from  laudanum,  opium,  henbane,  pare- 
goric, soothing  syrup,  syrup  of  poppies,  bad  fish,  poisonous  mushrooms,  poisonous 
seeds  or  plants,  or  indeed  almost  any  vegetable  substance,  the  first  thing  to  be 
done  is  to  empty  the  stomach  with  an  emetic.  This  may  be  done  by  mixing  a 
tablespoonful  of  mustard  or  salt  with  a  cupful  of  warm  water,  and  repeating  the 
dose  until  there  is  fi-ee  vomiting.  In  all  narcotic  "poison  the  person  should  on  no 
account  be  allowed  to  go  to  sleep,  or  he  may  never  wake.  For  all  strong  acids, 
such  as  oil  of  vitriol,  muriatic,  nitric,  and  oxalic  acids,  put  an  ounce  of  calcined 
magnesia  into  a  pint  of  water,  and  take  a  wineglassful  every  two  minutes.  If 
this  is  not  attainable,  dissolve  half  an  ounce  of  soap  in  a  pint  of  water,  and  give 
a  glassful  every  four  minutes.  Magnesia  or  chalk  may  be  taken  if  lucifer  matches 
are  swallowed.  For  arsenic,  which  is  found  in  rat  and  vermin  poisons  and  ague- 
drops,  empty  the  stomach  by  an  emetic  of  ten  grains  of  sulphate  of  zinc,  if  it  can 
be  had;  if  not,  mustard  and  warm  water.  Give  large  quantities  of  milk  and  raw 
eggs,  or  failing  these,  flour  and  water,  both  before  and  after  the  vomiting.  For 
mercurj'  in  all  its  forms — corrosive  sublimate,  vermilion,  red  precipitate,  calomel 
— the  whites  of  twelve  eggs  should  be  beaten  up  in  two  pints  of  water,  and  a  wine- 
glassful  given  ever>'  three  minutes.  If  the  patient  vomits,  all  the  better.  If 
the  eggs  cannot  immediately  be  obtained,  use  flour  and  water  or  milk.  For 
prussic  acid,  which  is  often  found  in  almond  flavor,  sal  volatile  and  water  and 
stimulants  may  be  given. 

Boils  a?id  Carbuncles. — These  tiresome  and  painful  excrescences  are  usually 
caused  by  poverty  of  the  blood  and  weakness,  and  those  who  suffer  from  them 
should  have  plenty  of  wholesome  food,  fresh  air  and  exercise.  The  best  and 
gentlest  way  of  treating  them  is  to  keep  warm  linseed-meal  poultices  on  them  till 
they  have  broken,  and  the  core  has  been  removed;  then  lay  a  soft  linen  rag  on 
the  sore.  When  the  poultice  cannot  conveniently  be  applied,  a  little  piece  of 
sticking-plaster  laid  right  over  the  boil,  and  renewed  every  two  days,  will  keep  it 
from  being  rubbed,  and  from  being  quite  so  sore.  The  old-fashioned  soap-and 
sugar  plaster  is  very  efficacious,  but  rather  cruel.  If  the  core  of  a  boil  is  not 
removed,  it  is  almost  sure  to  come  again.  Carbuncles  require  medical  treatment. 
They  may  be  distinguished  from  boils  by  being  larger  and  flatter,  and  having  a 
surface  composed  of  cells. 

Fainting. — Lay  the  patient  on  his  back  on  the  floor  without  any  pillow  under 
his  head,  and  splash  cold  water  vigorously  on  his  forehead,  rub  his  hands  and 
feet,  and  apply  strong  smelling-salts  to  his  nostrils.  As  soon  as  he  is  able  to 
swallow,  give  him  a  little  wine  or  weak  brandy-and-water.     Open  the  window, 


438      TREATMENT  OF  CASUALTIES  AND  SMALL  AILMENTS. 

keep  the  room  cool,  and  do  not  let  three  or  four  people  crowd  round  him.  Those 
who  are  subject  to  fainting  should  be  careful  to  keep  the  bowels  regular,  the  mind 
free  from  excitement,  to  avoid  unwholesome  food,  and  to  take  exercise. 

Earache. — Put  a  hot  linseed-meal  poultice  upon  the  ear,  renew  it  when 
required,  and  when  it  has  done  its  work,  put  a  little  cotton  wool  into  the  hollow 
for  fear  of  cold;  or,  put  into  it  a  roasted  onion,  as  hot  as  can  be  borne,  and  covered 
with  muslin.  If  this  fails  to  give  relief,  let  the  patient  hold  his  head  on  one  side, 
and  drop  into  the  ear  a  little  warmed  laudanum,  or  a  drop  of  very  hot  water. 
The  hot  water  bag  as  a  pillow  is  ver>^  soothing. 

Taking  Cold. — Most  people  can  tell  the  exact  moment  when  they  take  a  cold, 
A  peculiar  chilly,  disagreeable  feeling,  more  easily  realized  than  described,  gives 
the  information.  Now  for  immediate  action.  If  possible,  take  a  Turkish  bath. 
If  this  cannot  be  had,  take  three  or  four  drops  of  spirit  of  camphor  on  a  piece  of 
sugar  every  fifteen  minutes,  till  five  doses  have  been  taken,  and  the  cold  will  most 
likely  take  its  place  amongst  the  ills  that  might  have  been.  If  it  still  go  on, 
drink  a  little  warm  tea  or  gruel,  wrap  up  very  well,  and  take  a  brisk  walk  until 
the  skin  is  moist  with  perspiration;  then  return  home  and  cool  gradually.  When 
bed-time  comes,  take  a  basin  of  gruel  sweetened  with  treacle,  and  put  an  extra 
blanket  on  the  bed.  If  these  means  are  not  successful,  put  the  feet  in  mustard  and 
hot  water  if  practicable,  take  an  aperient,  a  basin  of  gruel,  a  dose  of  nitre  and  sal 
volatile,  and  stay  in  bed  an  hour  or  two  longer  than  usual,  and  so  trj-  to  throw 
the  cold  off.  Never  have  recourse  to  alcoholic  stimulants,  and  never  hover  over 
a  fire  at  such  a  time.     Put  on  an  extra  garment,  but  avoid  the  stove. 

Once  let  a  man  be  thoroughly  possessed  by  a  cold  in  the  head,  and  it  is  of  no 
use  his  trj'iug  to  be  energetic,  or  virtuous,  or  dignified,  or  amiable,  or  beneficent: 
he  will  only  fail  utterly,  and  had  better  resign  himself  to  gruel  and  blankets.  It 
is  my  belief  that  when  a  cold  has  got  into  the  system,  there  is  nothing  possible  but 
endurance.  It  will  have  its  time,  and  he  is  fortunate  who  can  so  deal  with  it  that 
it  shall  not  become  more  than  a  cold,  and  grow  into  bronchitis,  inflammation  of 
the  lungs,  or  rheumati.sm.  Nevertheless,  the  arrival  of  colds  may  be  prevented, 
and  their  discomforts  may  be  alleviated.  They  may  be  prevented  to  a  very  large 
extent  by  temperance,  good  living,  warm  clothing  and  regular  exercise,  daily 
bathing  in  cold  water,  and  the  use  of  common  sense.  The  morning  cold  bath  is 
a  most  valuable  preventive  to  a  cold,  for  it  renders  the  body  less  liable  to  the 
effect  of  sudden  changes;  and  I  have  mj-self  met  with  several  instances  in  which 
the  proneness  to  take  cold  seemed  to  have  been  put  to  an  end  by  a  regular  daily 
use  of  the  cold  bath.  The  way  to  prevent  colds  is  to  keep  up  the  circulation  by 
exercise,  to  avoid  damp  clothing,  to  wear  good  boots,  to  take  plentj'  of  wholesome 
food,  and  after  getting  either  ver>'  warm  or  ver>^  cold,  to  bring  the  body  slowly 
and  gradually,  instead  of  suddenly,  to  its  proper  warmth. 


TREATMENT  OF  CASUALTIES  AND  SMALL  AILMENTS.       439 

Rifigicorm. — Ointment  of  nitrate  of  mercurj^  i  part;  clarified  hog's  lard, 
3  parts:  to  be  mixed  thoroughly,  and  applied  in  small  quantity  night  and 
morning. 

The  above  ointment,  more  or  less  diluted  with  clarified  hog's  lard,  is  an 
excellent  application  for  the  cure  of  many  skin  afiections. 

Toothache. — One  drop  of  pure  liquid  carbolic  acid  upon  a  pillet  of  cotton 
wool,  placed  carefully  in  the  caries  of  the  teeth,  will  be  found  of  great  value  both 
in  allaying  pain  and  arresting  decay.  When  free  from  pain  and  sensitiveness,  the 
tooth  may  be  stopped  either  by  a  dentist,  or,  if  the  caries  be  too  large,  a  tempo- 
rary stopping  of  gutta-percha.  The  last-named  may  be  found  highly  useful,  and 
can  be  readily  applied  by  one's  own  self  as  follows:  Take  a  piece  of  either  white  or 
brown  gutta-percha  of  the  required  size;  immerse  it  in  warm  water,  and  when  quite 
plastic,  fill  the  tooth,  and  trim  off  before  the  filling  hardens.  The  gutta-percha 
indicated  may  be  obtained  at  any  chemist's. 

A  Speedy  Remedy  for  Recent  Colds.  — Ten  drops  of  spirit  of  sal  volatile, 
chloric  ether,  and  red  lavender,  taken  in  a  wineglassful  of  camphor  julep,  and 
repeated  at  intervals  of  a  few  hours. 

Lotion  for  Sprains. — Sal  ammoniac,  half  an  ounce;  rose  water,  half  a  pint; 
eau-de-Cologne,  a  tablespoonful.  Rags  wet  with  the  lotion  should  be  laid  on  the 
injured  part,  and  changed  when  they  get  dry. 

The  above  lotion  will  be  found  very  useful  and  refreshing  if  applied  as  a  wash 
for  the  face,  neck,  arms,  etc.,  during  warm  summer  weather,  allaying  much  the 
inconveniences  of  profuse  perspiration. 

A  Good  Pick-me-up. — Dissolve  as  much  bicarbonate  of  potash  as  will  cover  a 
five-cent  piece  and  a  small  lump  of  white  sugar  in  a  wineglassful  of  cold  water; 
then  add  a  teaspoonful  each  of  tincture  of  gentian  and  tincture  of  cardamoms,  and 
half  that  quantity  of  sal  volatile.     Stir,  and  drink  all. 

For  Mosquito  Bites. — A  mixture  of  menthol  and  camphor  spirits,  in  equal 
parts,  will  be  found  very  soothing. 

Equal  parts  of  menthol,  camphor  and  cologne  water  are  very  soothing  in 
headache.  A  hot  compress  laid  on  the  head,  and  hot  water  applied  behind  the 
ears,  will  often  drive  away  an  obstinate  nervous  headache. 

Cold  Cream  for  Chapped  Hands. — Take  two  ounces  of  oil  of  almonds,  one 
ounce  of  spermaceti,  and  a  piece  of  white  wax  as  big  as  a  hazel  nut,  and  melt 
them  together  at  the  bottom  of  a  basin.  When  these  are  melted  and  well  mixed, 
pour  over  them  a  pint  of  cold  spring  water,  and  let  them  stand  for  twenty-four 
hours.  Then  pour  away  all  the  water,  and  pound  the  mixed  residue  in  a  mortar. 
Scent  with  a  drop  or  two  of  the  essence  of  bergamot,  or  a  little  lavender. 

Lip  Salve. — Alkanet  root,  one  drachm;  oil  of  almonds,  one  ounce;  spermaceti 
cerate,  two  ounces.     Add  a  few  drops  of  any  scent  that  you  like,  while  warm. 


44©      TREATMENT  OF  CASUAIvTiES  AND  SMALL  AILMENTS. 


Take  care  to  let  the  alkanet  root  be  put  in  a  jar  with  the  oil,  and  placed  on  the 
hob  or  in  an  oven  till  it  is  a  beautiful  red;  then  take  it  out  and  place  it  again  on  the 

hob  with  the  cerate. 

To  Prevent  Chil- 
blains.— Wear  flannel 
socks,  or  socks  of 
chamois  leather,  when 
you  go  to  bed. 

To  Cure  Chil- 
blains.— Wash  them 
with  tincture  of 
myrrh  in  a  little 
water. 

For  Cold.  — Drink 
a  pint  of  cold  water 
when  in  bed. 

Windy   Colic.  — 
Drink  a  pint  of  camo- 
mile tea,   or   parched 
peas  eaten  freelj'. 

Bilious  Colic. — 
Drink  warm  lemon- 
ade. 

Costiveness.  — Rise 
early,  or  take  daily 
(two  hours  before 
dinner)  a  small  tea- 
cupful  of  stewed 
prunes. 

Dry  Cough. — Im- 
mediately after  your 
cough,  chew  a  piece 
of  Peruvian  bark, 
about  the  size  of  a 
peppercorn.  Swallow 
your  saliva  as  long  as 
Do  this  every  time  3^ou  cough;  it  is 


BRUSH   THE   HAIR   THOROUGHX,Y. 


it  is  bitter,  and  then  spit  out  the  wood, 
invaluable. 

A    Very  Good  Honey  Soap  for  the  Skin. — Cut  two  pounds  of  yellow   soap 
very  thin;  put  it  into  a  double  saucepan,  stirring  it  occasionally  till  it  is  melted. 


TREATMENT  OF  CASUALTIES  AND  SMALL  AILMENTS.       441 

which  will  be  in  a  few  minutes  if  the  water  is  kept  boiling  around  it;  then  add  a 
quarter  of  a  pound  of  honey,  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  palm  oil,  and  one-third  of 
real  oil  of  cinnamon;  boil  all  together  for  six  or  eight  minutes,  then  pour  out  and 
let  it  stand  till  the  next  day,  when  it  is  fit  for  use. 

For  Preserving  aiid  Beaidifyiyig  the  Teeth. — Dissolve  two  ounces  of  borax 
in  three  pints  of  water;    before  quite  cold  add  one  tablespoonful  of  spirits  of 


IN   THE   SICK   ROOM. 

camphor  and  one  teaspoonful  of  tincture  of  myrrh,  and  put  it  into  bottles  ready 
for  use.  One  wineglassful  of  this  preparation  added  to  half  a  pint  of  tepid  water 
is  sufficient  for  each  application. 

Camphor  Tooth  Powder. — Prepared  chalk,  one  pound;  camphor,  one  or  two 
drachms.  The  camphor  must  be  finely  powdered  by  moistening  it  with  a  little 
spirit  of  wine,  and  then  mixing  it  thoroughly  with  the  chalk . 

Quinine  Tooth  Poivder. — Sulphate  of  quinine,  six  grains;   precipitated  chalk, 


442       TREATMENT  OF  CASUALTIES  AND  SMALL  AILMENTS. 

twelve  drachms;  rose  pink,  two  drachms;  carbonate  of  magnesia,  one  drachm. 
Mix  all  well  together. 

Hair  Wash. — For  cleansing  and  promoting  the  growth  of  the  hair.  Oil  of 
sweet  almonds,  one  ounce;  otto  of  roses,  two  drops;  carbonate  of  ammonia, 
twenty  grains;  rosemary  water,  one-fourth  pint;  tincture  of  cantharides,  two 
drachms;  spirit  of  red  lavender,  ten  drops.  Mix  as  follows:  Drop  the  otto  of 
roses  into  the  oil  of  sweet  almonds;  dissolve  the  carbonate  of  ammonia  in  the 
rosemary  water;  add  to  it  the  first-named  articles;  shake  well  the  bottle;  and 
lastly  put  in  the  tincture  of  cantharides  and  red  lavender.  A  little  of  the  above 
should  be  well  rubbed  into  the  roots  of  the  hair  ever>'  morning. 

To  Fasteti  the  Teeth. — Put  powdered  alum  (the  quantity  of  a  nutmeg)  in  a 
quart  of  spring  water  for  twenty-four  hours;  then  strain  the  water  and  gargle 
with  it. 

The  Sick  Room. — r.  If  possible,  let  it  be  large  and  sunny,  and  used  only  for 
illness. 

2.  Let  there  be  very  little  furniture,  no  carpet  and  only  rugs. 

3.  It  should  be  very  clean.  The  floor  should  be  wiped  over  with  a  damp 
cloth  every  day. 

4.  As  soon  as  medicine  comes,  read  the  labels  and  directions  carefully.  The 
medicines  should  be  kept  in  one  particular  place,  and  all  bottles,  cups,  etc. ,  that 
are  done  with  should  be  taken  away  at  once. 

5.  The  room  should  be  kept  very  quiet.  There  should  be  no  talking  or  gos- 
siping; one  or  two  people  at  the  most,  besides  the  invalid,  are  quite  enough  to  be 
there  at  a  time. 

6.  The  sick  person's  face,  and  hands,  and  feet,  should  be  often  washed  with 
warm  water  and  soap,  and  the  mouth  be  rinsed  with  vinegar  and  water. 

7.  When  a  person  lies  long  in  bed,  take  great  care  that  the  back  and  hips 
are  kept  clean  and  dry.  If  any  place  looks  red  or  tender,  dab  it  twice  a  day 
with  some  spirit,  and  arrange  thin  pillows  so  as  to  take  the  weight  off  the  tender 
parts.     If  the  skin  comes  off,  apply  yellow  basilicon  ointment. 


Though  you  haven't  gold  or  silver, 

Though  3^ou've  neither  lands  nor  name 
Never  dream  you  are  not  wanted, 

You  are  needed  just  the  same. 
In  this  world  of  change  and  sorrow 

You  maj'  take  the  valiant  part; 
And  the  world  will  love  and  bless  you 

If  you  have  a  cheery  heart. 


A  CHEERY  HEART.  443 

Do  not  look  at  clouds  and  shadows, 

Watch  for  sunshine  day  by  day, 
Let  your  tones  be  full  of  courage, 

Scatter  gladness  on  the  way. 
Up  and  down  the  teeming  present, 

Learn  the  dear  and  precious  art. 
How  to  meet  both  haps  and  mishaps 

Ever  with  a  cheery  heart. 

All  forecasting  of  to-morrow 

In  a  mood  of  bleak  despair. 
All  distrust  of  God's  sure  promise. 

All  faint  shrinking  anywhere, 
From  a  lack  of  faith  and  patience 

Takes  the  coward's  foolish  start; 
Walk  with  God,  with  head  uplifted. 

Bear  about  a  cheery  heart. 

God  forget  you  ?     Never,  never. 

He  will  keep  you  to  the  end. 
If  He  sends  a  sudden  tempest. 

Still  His  rainbow  He  will  send. 
Trust  in  Heaven,  and  make  earth  brighter 

For  the  trust,  and  let  no  dart 
Of  a  transient  pain  bereave  you 

Of  God's  gift,  the  cheery  heart. 


CHAPTER   LIX. 

Just  Among  Ourselves. 

/OWARD  the  end  of  August  many  city  families  who  have  had 
pleasant  times  in  the  country  during  the  vacation  feel  that 
they  must  return  to  their  homes  in  town.  It  is  with  pro- 
found regret  that  they  turn  their  backs  upon  the  green  fields, 
the  mountains  or  the  seashore,  remembering  the  closely-built 
streets  and  the  lack  of  freedom  which  belong  to  a  town  envi- 
C  ronment.  Still,  the  children  must  very  soon  begin  their  school  j^ear 
1  again.  With  September  the  school-room  doors  which  have  been 
closed,  fly  open;  the  teachers  come  back  from  their  vacation;  .the 
children,  brown  and  happy  and  rested,  begin  their  routine  of  work  once  more, 
and  we  all  know  that  home  life  for  many  years  hinges  principall)'  upon  the  welfare 
of  the  children.  For  what  else  do  parents  toil  and  strive;  what  nobler  end  can 
parents  have  in  view  than  the  upbringing  of  their  children  in  Christian  nurture, 
than  giving  them  the  best  opportunities  possible,  than  preparing  them  to  enter 
upon  life  fully  equipped  for  its  battles  ? 

If  the  children  have  had  the  sort  of  outing  they  need,  they  will  come  back 
wonderfully  fresh  and  strong,  and  for  a  while  at  least  they  will  resemble  pictures 
of  health.  A  doctor  once  said  to  me  about  a  little  girl  who  had  very  bright  eyes 
and  red  cheeks,  "  Some  children  are  well,  but  that  child  might  have  her  portrait 
taken  for  the  goddess  of  health."  People  make  great  mistakes  if  they  do  not 
allow  their  children  a  large  measure  of  freedom  in  the  country.  There  should  be 
a  truce  to  lessons,  although  it  does  no  harm  and  really  adds  to  a  child's  pleasure 
to  have  a  daily  hour  of  reading  with  mother  or  elder  sister  even  during  vacation. 
But  what  children  need  most  of  all  when  in  the  country  is  freedom  to  romp.  They 
should  not  be  hampered  with  the  care  of  fine  clothes;  they  should  even  be 
allowed  at  times  to  be  dirty — a  little  surface  dirt  is  easily  washed  off  at  night. 

In  coming  home  the  mother  feels  that  the  freedom  of  the  streets  will  have  to 
be  curtailed.  Fortunately,  all  around  our  cities  there  are  charming  points  which 
may  be  reached  at  a  trifling  cost,  and  for  two  car-fares,  ten  cents,  one  may  have 
miles  and  miles  of  delicious  sea  breeze  or  mountain  air  by  patronizing  the  trollej' 
cars.     On  first  coming  home  it  is  not  a  bad  plan  for  the  mother  to  plan  frequent 

(444) 


THH    KNI)    OK    \'ACATIUN    DAYS. 


V445) 


446  OCCUPATIONS  FOR  LITTLE  CHILDREN. 

excursions  for  the  children  on  Saturdays  during  the  bright  weather  of  the  fall.  A 
little  care  should  be  exercised  over  the  house  itself,  that  it  be  perfectly  free  from 
germs  of  malaria,  and  verj'  great  care  be  taken  that  it  be  healthful  for  the  returning 
famil}-. 

One  great  advantage  city  people  coming  back  from  the  countrj'  have, 
strangely  enough,  over  the  dwellers  in  the  inland  farms.  Of  course  the  vegetables 
and  fruits  which  are  gathered  where  they  grow  have  a  delicious  taste  unknown  to 
those  which  have  made  long  journeys  and  arrive  at  city  markets;  and  yet, 
acknowledging  this,  we  must  still  admit  that  the  person  who  resides  in  a  great 
city  like  New  York,  or  Philadelphia,  or  Chicago,  or  San  Francisco  has  a  wonderful 
advantage  in  the  market  to  which  she  has  access.  In  August  and  September  it  is 
an  interesting  thing  to  go  through  Fulton  and  Washington  markets  in  New  York 
to  see  how  the  most  delicious  fruit  of  every  kind  and  description  is  arrayed 
temptingly  on  the  venders'  stalls,  and  to  choose  as  one  may  from  a  great  number 
of  vegetables  and  to  find  such  choice  of  the  sea-food  as  perhaps  one  finds  nowhere 
else.  Even  if  one  misses  to  some  extent  the  countrj^  table,  yet  if  the  marketing 
and  catering  are  judicious,  there  will  be  no  dearth  to  the  citizen  when  once  city 
housekeeping  is  again  begun. 

And  yet  the  market  which  interests  me  most  is  not  a  city  one;  it  is  a  queer 
old-fashioned  market  in  a  Southern  town,  to  which  people  from  the  country  bring 
green  vegetables,  and  chickens,  and  eggs,  and  pot  cheese,  selling  from  the  wagons 
where  they  sit.  The  old  aunties  in  their  gingham  gowns,  with  their  bright 
head-kerchiefs  put  on  like  turbans,  and  the  barefoot  laddies  who  have  flowers 
to  sell  interest  me  very  much. 


Occupations  for  Little  Children. 

An  English  writer  says:  "  I  am  old-fashioned  enough  to  think  that  children, 
both  boys  and  girls,  should  be  taught  to  sew.  If  they  begin  bj'  making  pretty 
things,  not  humdrum,  useful  things,  they  will  soon  get  to  be  fond  of  the  work. 
Many  a  man  who  has  traveled  far  away  from  mother  and  sisters  has  felt  the 
desirabilit}"  of  knowing  how  to  sew  a  button  on  or  to  put  the  necessary  stitch  in 
linen;  while  girls  of  course  ought  to  be  taught  needlework,  and  the  sooner  they 
begin  the  more  likely  they  are  to  become  proficient  in  the  art. '  * 

Wool  work  always  delights  children,  especially  if  affection  gives  them  a 
motive  for  working.  How  delighted  a  little  girl  is  to  make  a  pair  of  slippers  for 
her  father.  Very  pretty  balls  can  be  made  with  wool  so  soft  that  they  will  give 
rise  to  no  anxiety  about  the  ornaments  or  the  windows.  They  are  made  as  fol- 
lows :  Take  two  round  pieces  of  cardboard  and  cut  a  hole  in  the  centre  of  each 


.^ 

'•-- 

-^ 

^i 

-'^'^i^ 

'i^i^>.%Xi^^' 


IMKS    IX    Till',    CUl'NTKV, 


448 


OCCUPATIONS  FOR  LITTLE  CHILDREN. 


the  size  of  a  silver  quarter.  Wind  wool  through  these  holes  aiound  and  around 
the  cardboard  till  it  is  completely  covered  and  the  hole  is  filled  up.  Pass  some 
string  through  the  hole  and  tie  it  tightly  in  several  places  ;  then  cut  through  the 
wool  between  the  cards  and  gradually  little  b%'  little  draw  the  cardboard  away. 
Trim  the  edges  of  the  wool  even  to  make  the  ball  smooth  and  neat  and  it  is  ready 
for  use.     Wools  of  diflferent  colors  should  be  used,  and  an^-  little  odds  and  ends  of 

wool  may  be  tied  together 
and  used  instead  of  fresh 
wool.  A  few  beads,  with 
a  needle  and  thread,  will 
keep  little  children  inter- 
ested for  a  long  time. 
They  can  make  rings, 
chains,  etc. 

Very  prettj'  water 
lilies  may  be  made  out  of 
oranges.  Take  a  sharp 
knife  and  cut  the  skin  of 
the  orange  into  sections,  be- 
ginning at  the  top.  Be 
careful  not  to  pierce  the 
fruit  itself,  and  also  to  leave 
a  small  circle  about  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  in  di- 
ameter at  the  stalk  end  of 
the  orange  untouched. 
Loosen  these  portions  of 
skin  from  the  orange  so  as 
not  to  break  them  ;  roll 
each  one  and  leave  it  rolled 
at  the  bottom  of  the 
orange  ;■  divide  the  orange 
itself  into  sections  and  do  not  separate  them,  but  leave  them  joined  together 
near  the  bottom.  Take  the  rolls  of  skin  atid  place  the  tip  of  each  one  on  the  top 
of  the  orange,  which  will  then  assume  an  appearance  somewhat  resembling  that 
of  a  half-opened  water  lily.  A  dish  of  oranges  prepared  in  this  way  has  a  very 
pretty  efiect. 


10X5' 


lit^ 


THE  FIRST  I^ESSON. 


HOW  WE   BEHAVE   AT   HOME.  449 

How  We  Behave  at  Home. 

Our  manners  in  the  family  are  very  apt  to  be  the  sincere  expressions,  as  they 
are  the  unconscious  revelations,  of  our  prevailing  and  dominant  states  of  mind. 
Character  is  indicated  by  the  tricks  of  speech  and  of  gesture,  the  tones  of  voice, 
the  politeness  or  the  rudeness  of  daily  deportment,  and  by  a  hundred  small  things 
which  are  automatic,  things  of  which  we  take  no  note,  perhaps  of  which  we  are 
quite  unaware.  Just  as  a  habitually  gentle  and  controlled  person  has  a  quiet  and 
serene  face,  and  as  a  tempestuous  and  unrestrained  nature  writes  its  record  on  the 
countenance,  so  the  manners  of  a  family  set  it  apart  as  well  bred  or  the  reverse, 
and  the  family  air  stamps  each  individual  of  the  clan. 

Why  do  people  residing  under  the  same  roof  gain  a  certain  resemblance? 
Originally,  it  may  be,  their  features  were  cast  in  different  molds,  they  started  in 
being  unlike,  but  time  and  familiarity,  and  an  incessant  process  of  unconscious 
imitation,  has  brought  about  a  marked  similarity,  so  that  the  loving  husband  and 
wife,  after  years  of  daily  intercourse  and  common  interests,  actually  look  alike, 
with  a  subtler  and  more  spiritual  likeness  than  the  mere  surface  resemblance  of 
kinship.  When  the  overwrought  and  overtired  mother  scolds  her  fractious  child, 
allowing  her  fretfulness  to  sharpen  her  accents  and  speaking  with  the  stormy 
emphasis  of  anger,  she  does  not  mean  permanently  to  influence  her  little  one's 
manner,  but  she  is  doing  so  nevertheless.  The  child  grows  querulous,  reflecting 
the  nervous  susceptibility  to  strain  which  makes  the  mother  unamiable.  Placidity, 
serenity,  a  tranquil  calm  of  strength  and  sweetness  in  combination  seem  to  have 
vanished  from  many  homes  wherein  people  are  hurried  and  worried,  distraught 
and  careladen. 

Our  manners  may  help  to  control  our  minds.  So  subtle  is  the  connection 
between  body  and  spirit  whenever  we  can  absolutely  require  of  the  former  perfect 
repose,  the  repression  of  impatient  movements  and  of  irritated  speech,  the  spirit 
gains  time  to  conquer  itself,  and  finds  its  lost  poise.  To  go  alone,  sit  perfectly 
still  and  refuse  to  allow  even  so  much  as  a  frown  or  a  pucker  upon  one's  face,  to 
do  this  when  circumstances  are  peculiarly  tr>'ing,  or  when  one  is  aware  that 
weariness  will  presently  degenerate  to  crossness,  may  save  one  from  a  humiliating 
outbreak,  and  add  permanently  to  the  stock  of  self-control  which  we  all  need  as 
capital  for  life. 

Family  manners,  apart  from  the  relations  of  parents  and  children,  which  imply 
a  reciprocal  consideration,  are  apt  to  suffer  from  too  much  candor.  We  speak 
with  great  plainness  in  the  circle  of  our  own  kindred;  we  comment  too  freel}^  on 
foibles;  we  express  the  contrary  opinion  too  readily  and  with  too  little  courtesy. 
A  slight  infusion  of  formality  never  harms  social  intercourse,  either  in  the  family 
or  elsewhere. 
29 


450 


HOW   WE   BEHAVE  AT   HOME. 


Beyond  this  too  common  mistake  of  an  over-bluntness  and  brusque  freedom 
in  the  manners  of  a  household,  in  some  of  our  homes  there  is  a  greater  fault,  even 
a  lack  of  demonstration.     There  is  the  deepest,  sincerest  love  in  the  home;  the 

brothers  and  sis- 
ters would  cheer- 
fully die  for  one 
another  if  so 
great  a  sacrifice 
were  demanded, 
but  the  love  is 
ice-locked  be- 
hind a  barrier 
of  reserve.  Ca- 
resses are  infre- 
quent, words  of 
affection  are  sel- 
dom spoken.  It 
may  be  urged 
with  truth  and 
some  show  of 
reason  that  in 
the  very  homes 
where  this  ab- 
sence of  demon- 
stration is  most 
marked  there  is 
complete  mutual 
understanding 
and  no  possibil- 
ity of  doubt  or 
misgiving,  and, 
so  far  as  it  goes, 
this  is  well.  But 
often  young 
hearts  long  un- 
speakably for 
.aome  gentle  sign 

of  love's  presence — the  lingering  touch  of  a  tender  hand  on  the  head,  the  good- 
night kiss,  the  word  of  praise,  the  recognition  of  affection.  Older  hearts,  too,  are 
sometimes  empty,  and  many  of  us,  younger  and  older,  are  kept  on  short  rations 


THK  RECOGNITION  OP  AFFECTION. 


USEFUL  AGE.  451 

all  our  lives,  when  our  right,  on  our  Father's  road  to  our  Father's  house,  is  to  be 
fed  with  the  finest  of  the  wheat,  and  enough  of  it,  just  as  those  who  ate  manna  in 
the  wilderness  had  always  an  entire  provision,  not  a  stinted  supply. 

Another  suggestion  which  should  not  be  overlooked  is  the  importance  of 
politeness  to  the  little  ones.  To  snub  a  small  laddie  needlessly,  to  order  about  a 
child  on  errands  here  and  there,  instead  of  civilly  preferring  a  request  as  one  does 
to  an  older  person,  in  each  case  is  an  invasion  of  the  rights  of  childhood.  The 
child  to  whom  everybody  practices  politeness  will  in  turn  be  himself  ready  to  oblige 
and  agreeable  in  manner,  for  the  stamp  of  the  family  is  as  plainly  to  be  seen  on 
us  ev3ry  one  as  the  stamp  of  the  mint  on  the  coin,  and  it  is  as  indelible  for  time, 
and  wh;   not,  also,  for  eternity  ? 


Useful  Age. 

Rev.  Dr.  Field,  writing  in  his  own  beautiful  and  venerable  age,  filled  with 
good  works  and  kind  words,  has  this  suggestive  thing  to  say  to  us  about  when  to 
stop  work.  I  found  it  in  the  Evangelist  and  felt  that  you  would  like  to  see  it — 
you,  woman,  with  the  whitening  hair  and  step  a  little  less  elastic  than  of  old  : 

My  neighbor  was  fully  sixty  years  of  age,  but  she  had  never  thought  of  being 
old  till  some  new  acquaintance  suggested  it  to  her. 

"  Of  course  you  are  not  using  your  brush  now,"  one  of  them  said  confi- 
dently.    They  had  just  been  admiring  a  fine  landscape,  some  of  her  work. 

The  truth  met  her  in  the  face  like  a  blow.     She  was  too  old. 

"  Certainly  I  am  using  my  brush  now,  just  as  I  have  done  for  years;  not  as 
a  business,  but  because  I  love  it,"  she  replied  with  spirit.  "  What  should  I  do? 
Why  should  I  give  it  up?  " 

And  yet  in  spite  of  this  brave  answer,  she  shivered,  and  shrank  within  herself, 
and  felt  a  cold  wave  of  loneliness  and  discouragement  creep  over  her  being. 

"  I  getting  old  !  "  she  said  inwardly.  "And  where  is  my  life  work?  It  is 
not  done;  it  seems  scarcely  begun,  I  have  all  my  life  been  so  anxious  to  do 
something  with  my  pen,  but  have  always  been  so  full  of  work  and  care,  I  am 
ashamed  of  the  little  accomplished;  and  now,  when  my  heart  is  desolate  and  my 
hands  empty,  and  I  would  fain  fill  up  the  remnant  of  life  with  the  work  which  has 
been  so  long  knocking  at  my  door,  behold!  I  am  old;  and  people  think  it  won- 
derful that  I  ever  use  my  brush.  What  would  they  say  could  they  know  that  I 
am  still  earnest  and  ambitious  to  use  my  pen  to  some  effect  in  the  world?  " 

She  had  been  a  devoted  mother;  but  now,  of  her  children,  some  were  in 
heaven,  and  some  scattered  over  the  earth,  and  she  acknowledged  to  herself: 
"  Come  to  think,  I  am  old;  it  may  be  my  mental  powers  are  declining,  and  perhaps 


452  USEFUL  AGE. 

I  am  foolish  to  keep  on  trying.  The  results  which  I  have  longed  to  achieve  need 
more  years  and  more  strength,"  she  sadly  admitted;  for  it  is  sad  and  hard  to  give 
up  setting  the  fleshly  feet  upon  the  hills  of  the  land  of  promise.  So,  with  the 
discouraging  conviction  that  it  was  too  late  in  life  to  do  anything  of  consequence, 
little  by  little,  with  many  sighs  and  regrets,  the  struggle  for  improvement  and 
excellence  was,  if  not  given  up,  carried  on  without  much  method  or  energy. 

But,  as  it  turned  out,  she  lived  on  and  on;  and  came  to  seventy  bright  and 
strong — brighter  and  stronger  than  at  sixty,  because  her  health  was  better,  and 
she  was  also  keeping  pace  with  the  times,  her  heart  pulsing  with  the  pulses  of  the 
world,  and  full  of  thoughts  and  helpful  suggestions  from  the  experience  of  years; 
but  having  given  up  effort  in  writing,  she  had  lost  facility  and  power  in  expression, 
and  she  sometimes  thought  regretfully:  "  If  I  had  only  known  how  well  I  was 
going  to  be,  and  kept  right  on,  I  might  have  made  people  listen  to  me  by  this 
time;  and  there  is  so  much  I  would  like  to  say;  but  now  it  is  surely  too  late  to 
start  up  afresh;  it  is  certain  I  have  but  little  time  left.'" 

So  the  years  went  on,  and  with  undimmed  intelligence  and  a  pretty  strong 
body  came  the  dawning  of  her  eightieth  year. 

"I  am  aged  now,"  she  told  herself,  "  there  can  be  no  question  about  it;  but  only 
to  think  that  twenty  years  ago,  when  I  was  only  sixty,  I  was  discouraged  because 
people  thought  me  'old;'  and  now  it  is  plain  that  I  might  have  made  all  these 
years  count  for  much  more  than  they  have  done,  had  I  kept  right  on,  with  method 
and  determination,  and  not  been  influenced  by  the  thought  of  age.  Twenty 
years  !  but  now — ' ' 

So  the  j-ears  went  on  again,  and  she  was  really  aged  before  the  Lord  Jesus 
called  her  home;  and  the  first  thing  when  she  reached  heaven,  He  asked  her: 
' '  What  have  3'ou  been  doing  these  last  twenty-five  years  to  help  My  children  on 
the  earth,  for  whom  I  gave  My  life?  I  gave  you  those  years,  with  some  strength 
and  talent,  that  you  might  use  them  in  helping  along- My  work.  What  have  you 
done  with  those  3'ears  ?  " 

Then,  full  of  regret,  she  had  to  tell  over  the  story — of  strong  intent  to  go  on 
with  her  work,  and  of  finally  yielding  to  discouragement  because  there  was  so 
little  time  left,  and  she  might  be  called  away  or  not  have  strength  to  finish.  And 
the  sorrowful  answer  came: 

' '  Did  3^ou  not  read  my  order,  '  Occupy  till  I  come  ?  '  How  did  you  know 
you  would  not  have  time  ?  There  is  no  world  in  the  universe  that  needs  help  as 
does  the  earth,  which  was  your  scene  of  labor.  Adverse  pens  keep  busy;  it  is 
sad  that  yours  should  have  stopped,  for  you  little  know  the  influence  for  good  you 
might  have  exerted  had  you  continued  the  effort." 

Oh,  my  neighbor  saw  it  all  now.  If  she  only  had  those  twenty-five  years  to 
live  over  again ! 


UNDER   GOD'S   ORDERS  453 

In  the  extremity  of  regret  she  came  to  herself,  and  found  it  was  a  dream — or 
the  twenty-five  years  were  a  dream.  She  was  still  on  the  earth,  a  woman  of 
sixty;  and  joyfully  she  arose  and  went  to  her  work  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of 
youth,  resolving  never  to  lay  down  the  implements  of  labor  while  her  hands 
could  hold  them.  She  would  go  on  with  her  pen,  with  her  brush,  and  her  music, 
and  make  them  all  serve  the  Lord,  never  asking  whether  there  were  time, 
never  hesitating  because  she  was  old;  she  would  not  think  of  age. 

What  is  "old"  but  the  tabernacle  growing  frail  and  withered,  while  the 
dweller  within  may  be  growing  more  beautiful,  with  deeper  sympathies  and 
wider  vision — yea,  a  vision  that  reaches  on,  beyond  the  clouds  of  earth,  catching 
the  radiance  of  the  immortal  hills  and  reflecting  here  their  glory  ? 


Under  God's  Orders. 

Hattie's  earnest  face  glowed  with  enthusiasm,  life  was  so  full  and  rich  in 
beauty,  and  lay  all  before  her  in  possibilities.  With  a  soul  that  had  set  out  to 
grow  eternally,  she  looked  about  for  some  work  upon  which  to  spend  its  force. 
Ah,  how  she  wished  she  could  be  a  missionary  and  sail  over  the  waters  into  far- 
distant  countries  teaching  benighted  souls  of  the  love  of  Christ. 

Or  she  would  like  to  become  a  trained  nurse,  gliding  about  in  cap  and  .spotless 
apron  caring  for  the  sick  and  wounded.  What  joy  it  would  bring  to  soothe  aching 
brows,  and  gaze  into  fevered  eyes  with  a  soothing  quietness  such  as  makes  itself 
felt  !  There  were  exquisite  moments  when  beautiful  dreams  of  fame  flashed 
before  her  mental  eye,  and  she  pictured  herself  the  author  of  some  great  work 
of  art,  while  the  world  smiled  and  looked  applaudingly  on.  She  would  not 
attempt  poetry-,  so  man 3^  had  been  unsucessful  there;  but  why  should  she  not 
write  some  little  gem  in  prose,  which,  once  read,  would  remain  in  the  mind  for- 
ever? "  Under  God's  Orders,"  she  looked  startled  as  her  eyes  fell  upon  the 
words,  they  were  so  expressive  with  meaning.  "After  all,"  she  humbly  mused, 
"  I  can  only  be  fitted  for  great  tasks  by  performing  faithfully  the  little  duties 
about  me.  When  I  look  at  the  commonest  task  as  done  for  Christ,  it  assumes  a 
sacredness  which  is  not  to  be  mistaken.  I  cannot  serve  the  Master  faithfully  and 
follow  out  my  own  ends  in  life." 

"  No  cro.ss,  no  crown,"  is  a  motto  applying  to  each  individual,  and  every 
trust  must  be  faithfully  accepted.  So,  brave  and  faithful  Hattie,  whose 
duties  closely  held  ner  within  the  walls  of  home,  did  not  repine  thereat. 
One  task  followed  another  in  such  quick  succession  that  she  had  little  time 
to  think  of  her  own  ends  and  aims  in  life.  Friends  whispered  together, 
and  some  tried  to  console  her  over  the  hard  conditions  of  her  life;  but  she  sought 


454  AN   ANTIQUE. 

consolation  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  and  was  more  than  comforted  for  all  that  she 
endured.  Often  she  bowed  in  sweet  communion  at  God's  feet,  and  came  away 
v^ith  a  countenance  radiant  with  beauty. 

How  sweet  was  this  !  It  was  not  the  work  she  had  sought,  or  had  thought  she 
could  perform  cheerfully;  but  here  she  found  herself  growing  stronger  each  day, 
more  able  and  willing  to  endure.  This  is  one  of  the  blessings  of  duty  faithfully 
performed:  the  soul  broadens  and  becomes  fitted  to  fill  lofty  positions 

"  Under  God's  Orders  !  "  It  is  a  beautiful  thought,  and  the  sacred  joy  once 
tasted  makes  us  purpose  never  to  slight  or  neglect  a  single  task. — Sallie  V.  Du 
Bois. 


An  Antique. 

The  other  day  in  a  country  house  I  picked  up  an  old  school  book  printed  in 
Albany  in  1812,  and  bearing  on  its  title  page  in  childish  hand  the  name  of  its 
owner,  who,  if  living,  is  now  a  very  old  man  ;  who  very  likely  may  have  passed 
on  to  the  world  where  there  is  neither  age  nor  death. 

The  book  is  a  copy  of  Ivindley  Murray's  English  Grammar,  and  all  through, 
in  pencil  marks,  are  the  tasks  which  were  set  for  the  pupil  to  whom  the  book 
belonged.  Reading  it  with  a  good  deal  of  care,  it  does  not  seem  to  me  that  later 
grammarians  have  greatly  improved  on  Lindley  Murray.  My  own  study  of 
grammar  in  my  school  days  was  in  the  text-book  of  Goold  Brown ,  who  must  have 
drawn  very  largely  from  the  earlier  author. 

The  rules,  exceptions  and  remarks  contained  in  this  book  are  characterized 
"by  clearness,  precision  and  common  sense.  Thus  I  note,  "  Pauses  in  reading  and 
public  discourse  must  be  formed  upon  the  manner  in  which  we  utter  ourselves  in 
ordinary  sensible  conversation,  and  not  upon  the  stiflf,  artificial  manner  which  we 
acquire  from  reading  books  according  to  the  common  punctuation.  It  will  by  no 
means  be  sufficient  to  attend  to  the  points  used  in  printing,  for  these  are  far  from 
marking  all  the  pauses  which  ought  to  be  made  in  speaking.  To  render  pauses 
pleasing  and  expressive,  they  must  not  only  be  made  in  the  right  place,  but  also 
accompanied  with  a  proper  tone  of  voice,  by  which  the  nature  of  these  pauses  is 
intimated  much  more  than  by  the  length  of  them,  which  can  seldom  be  exactly 
measured.  Sometimes  it  is  only  a  slight  and  simple  suspension  of  voice  that  is 
proper  ;  sometimes  a  degree  of  cadence  in  the  voice  is  required  ;  and  sometimes 
that  peculiar  tone  and  cadence  which  denote  the  sentence  to  be  finished."  Again 
I  read,  "  In  the  use  of  words  and  phrases  which  in  point  of  time  relate  to  each 
other,  a  due  regard  to  their  relation  should  be  observed. ' ' 

Evidently  the  child  to  whom  this  book  belonged  was  required  to  memorize  these 
rules  precisely.     Perhaps  now  and  then  a  tear  fell  on  these  time-browned  pages. 


THE   SUMMER   GIRL.  455 

I  fancy  that  the  parsing  which  accompanied  Murray's  Grammar  was  done  in 
Milton's  "  Paradise  L,ost,"  or  perhaps  in  the  works  of  Dr.  Johnson.  The  child 
did  not  make  diagrams  as  our  children  do  to-day.  His  work  was  much  less  com- 
plex, I  think,  than  the  work  now  required  of  our  little  ones  at  school,  but  I  have 
no  doubt  that  the  result  was  quite  as  satisfactory. 

In  his  introduction,  written  at  Holgate,  near  York,  England,  1804,  the  author 
observes  that  the  occasional  strictures  dispersed  through  the  book,  and  intended  to 
illustrate  and  support  a  number  of  important  grammatical  points,  will  not  to 
young  persons  of  ingenuity  appear  to  be  dry  and  useless  discussions.  He  is  quite 
sure  that  by  such  persons  they  will  be  read  with  attention,  and  he  presumes  that 
these  strictures  will  gratify  their  curiosity^  stimulate  application,  and  give  solidity 
and  permanence  to  their  grammatical  knowledge. 

I  think  my  readers  will  not  mind  taking  a  peep  with  me  at  this  treasure-trove 
of  literature,  which  was  in  its  pristine  newness  for  sale  in  the  early  part  of  the 
century  at  the  bookstore  of  Websters  &  Skinners,  corner  of  State  and  Pearl  streets, 
Albany,  New  York,  The  title  page  tells  me  that  it  was  printed  from  the  nine- 
teenth English  edition. 


The  Summer  Girl.   . 

Where  are  they — the  reposeful  Priscillas,  the  rare,  pale  Margarets,  and  the 
sweet  Elaines?  Do  they  dwell  only  in  the  minds  of  poets,  and  have  we  nothing 
between  the  clever  girl  busy  with  knotty  questions,  and  Flora  McFlims}^  given 
wholly  to  the  superficial  ? 

We  realize,  of  course,  that  this  is  an  age  of  burdens,  not  of  the  old-time  sort; 
each  generation  has  its  own  peculiar  load  to  carry;  to-day  it  is  not  the  spinning- 
wheel  and  the  loom,  yet  the  present  burdens  for  our  girls  seem  to  weigh  more 
heavily  than  did  Priscilla's  care  of  the  flax. 

Ah,  well !  the  tree  of  knowledge  has  had  its  price  ever  since  the  first  woman 
took  of  its  fruit,  but  we  sometimes  think  that  it  is  too  great  when  we  long  for  a 
sight  of  free,  fresh  girls,  who  have  not  been  spoiled  by  the  world's  ambitions  and 
conventionalities,  and  are  not  loaded  with  the  woman's  progressive  purpose. 

Yet  it  is  not  always  the  newer  questions  and  responsibilities,  relating  to 
women's  large  field  of  effort,  that  occupy  the  attention  of  the  young,  but  often  the 
old  ones  of  gowns  and  love,  that  seem  to  have  an  interdependence,  and  these  have 
been  given  a  place  equal  in  importance  to  the  other  great  questions,  and  have  lost 
the  old  meaning  in  many  cases,  becoming  simply  means  to  an  end.  Dress  is  so 
often  made  an  agent  for  the  little  god.  Love,  and  Love  a  servant  of  power  and 
position,  that  all  the  romance  seems  to  have  fled,  and  the  sweet  ministry  of  form, 
color  and  texture  in  the  robing  of  a  maiden,  lost. 


456  A   WOMAN'S   DELIGHT. 

Sometimes  in  summer  wanderings  in  nature's  loveliest,  most  sacred  spots^ 
where  her  most  perfect  conditions  are  restful  and  satisfying,  because  full  of  sim- 
plicity, one  cannot  help  comparing  the  natural  beauty  in  earth  and  air  with  the 
artificial  in  society.  If,  then,  there  comes  across  the  vision  the  sweet  flower-like 
face  of  one  who  has  arrived  at  the  place  ' '  where  w^omanhood  and  childhood 
meet,"  and  finds  that  its  owner  has  a  nature  in  harmony  with  the  natural 
conditions  of  life  in  the  woods  and  in  the  fields,  that  like  the  blossoms  it  opens 
mind  and  heart  to  all  the  sweet  developing  influences,  and  is  capable  of  sturprise 
and  wonder,  what  a  delight  the  experience  offers  ! 

We  have  had  far  too  many  jokes  at  the  expense  of  the  "  summer  girl,"  and 
perhaps  our  L,auncelots  themselves  are  responsible  for  the  extinction  of  the  sweet 
Elaine  species  of  maidenhood.  In  practicing  their  arts  of  fascination  if  they  had 
held  themselves  always  to  the  honor  of  true-  knighthood,  they  would  not  have 
made  it  necessary  for  the  fair  creatures  whom  they  smote  with  the  glances  of  their 
divine  eyes,  to  learn  the  art  of  protection  and  to  grow  wary,  and  to  devise  schemes 
for  laying  traps,  and  so  burdening  themselves  with  things  unworthy  of  a  God- 
given  womanliness.  The  summer  girl  should  learn  the  fact  that  it  is  the  burdened 
maiden  who  suffers  defeat  in  her  plans  of  attracting  attention  and  winning  the 
heart  of  a  true  man,  and  who  is  sure  to  miss  the  true  benefits  of  an  outing. 

Naturalness  has  an  attractiveness  of  its  own;  without  it  richness  of  attire, 
wisdom  of  speech,  and  the  thousand  little  arts  possible  to  women,  can  accomplish 
nothing  desirable  for  the  maiden  of  the  summer  resort. — Mary  R.  Baldwin. 


A  Woman's  Delight. 

"  What  gathering  flowers  in  a  wood  is  to  children,"  says  Auerbach,  "  that 
shopping  in  a  large  town  is  to  women."  But  the  children  do  not  run  aimlessly 
from  flower  to  flower,  nor  do  they  toss  and  tumble  them  in  the  search  for  some 
particular  tint  until  they  are  in  such  a  tangle  that  the  gentlest  of  the  fairies  would 
have  their  tempers  taxed  in  trying  to  straighten  them  out. 

"I  went  shopping  once  with  a  lady,"  remarked  a  gentleman  one  evening 
when  we  were  discussing  this  absorbing  subject,  "  and  ever  since  I  have  had  a 
sincere  sympathy  for  salesmen.  I  had  heard  her  say  before  we  started  that  she 
wanted  to  buy  some  black  silk,  and  when  she  asked  to  see  the  goods  she  gave  the 
impression  that  she  intended  to  take  a  whole  dress  pattern,  but  after  going  to  a 
dozen  counters  in  as  many  different  stores,  and  allowing  the  clerks  to  unroll  piece 
after  piece,  she  finally  bought  07ie yard  for  a  basque  lining. 

"  '  Oh.  half  the  pleasure  of  shopping  is  the  privilege  of  looking  at  goods  that 
we  have  no   intention  of  buying,'    she  said,  indifferently,  when  I  ventured  to- 


A   WOMAN'S   DEUGHT. 


457 


commiserate  the  poor  fellows  whom  she  had  put  to  so  much  needless  trouble;  and 
from  all  that  I  can  learn  in  regard  to  women  as  shoppers  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  the  niajoritj'  of  them  would  agree  with  her." 

Of  course  we  had  to  admit  that  he  was  not  far  from  right,  for  this  sort  of 
shopping  is  to  man}'  women  as  fascinating  as  a  visit  to  a  picture  gallery  is  to 
othefs,  and  it  is  quite  possible  that  on  a  dull  day  salesmen  would  rather  be 
showing  their  goods,  even  though  they  sell  nothing,  than  to  stand  idle;  but  at  a 
busy  season,  when  the  rush  is  so  great  that  customers  must  wait  their  turn  to  be 
served,  and  the  hurried  salesmen  are  having  both  strength  and  patience  tried  to 

the  utmost,  a  lady  will  think  twice  be- 
fore making  any  unnecessary  request; 
and  when  she  has  finished  her  pur- 
chases, even  though  she  may  have  to 
wait  for  change,  she  will  promptly  move 
aside  and  give  her  place  at  the  coun- 
ter to  another. 

"  Without  the  rich  heart,  wealth  is 
an  ugly  beggar,"  says  Emerson;  and  the 
woman  that  snubs  and  overtaxes  shop- 
girls and  salesmen,  though  she  be  the 
' '  daughter  of  a  hundred  earls  ' '  and  the 
wife  of  a  millionaire,  forfeits  the  right 
to  be  called  a  lady;  while  she  who  has 
a  friendly  care  for  the  comfort  and 
convenience  of  others,  and  a  smile  and  a 
pleasant  word  for  those  that  serve  her, 
proves,  whatever  may  be  her  nominal 
rank,  her  patent  to  nobility;  and  with 
such  a  shopper,  whether  rich  or  poor, 
the  most  sensitive  of  employes  feels  that 
"  real  service  will  not  lose  its  nobleness,"  and  is  doubly  eager  to  please  her. 

"A  passion  of  kindness,"  quoting  Emerson  again,  distinguishes  "God's 
gentleman  from  Fashion's,"  and  what  is  true  of  "  God's  gentleman  "  is  equally 
true  of  God's  ladj'.  A  kindly  consideration  for  others  is  at  the  root  of  all  genuine 
courtesy,  and  a  woman  has  rarely  a  better  opportunity  to  put  the  Golden  Rule 
into  practice  than  when  shopping. — Mary  B.  Sleight. 


LET  ME   HELP  YOU. 


458  WORTH   REMEMBERING. 

Requiescam. 

[This  poem  is  said  to  have  been  found  under  the  pillow  ot  a  wounded  soldier  near  Port 
Royal  (1864).     It  is  understood  to  have  been  written  by  Mrs.  Robert  S.  Rowland.] 

I  lay  me  down  to  sleep 

With  little  thought  or  care 
Whether  my  waking  find 

Me  here  or  there. 

A  bowing,  burdened  head, 

That  only  asks  to  rest. 
Unquestioning,  upon 

A  loving  breast. 

My  good  right  hand  forgets 

Its  cunning  now— 
To  march  the  weary  march 

I  know  not  how. 

I  am  not  eager,  bold, 

Nor  strong — all  that  is  past: 
I  am  ready  not  to  do 

At  last,  at  last. 

My  half-day's  work  is  done, 

And  this  is  all  my  part; 
I  give  a  patient  God 

My  patient  heart, — 

And  grasp  his  banner  still. 

Though  all  its  blue  be  dim; 
These  stripes,  no  less  than  stars, 

I^ead  after  him. 


Worth  Remembering. 

To  pray  to  God  continually; 
To  leame  to  know  Him  rightfully; 
To  honour  God  in  Trinitie, 
The  Trinity  in  Unitie; 


THE   MINISTRY   OF   ANGELS.  459 

The  Father  in  His  majestic, 

The  Son  in  His  humanitie, 

The  Holy  Ghost's  benignitie, 

Three  persons  one  in  Deitie; 

To  serve  Him  always  holily; 

To  aske  Him  all  things  needfully; 

To  prayse  Him  alvvay  worthely; 

To  love  Him  alwa}'  stedfastly; 

To  dread  Him  alway  fearfully; 

To  aske  Him  mercy  hartely; 

To  trust  Him  alway  faithfully; 

To  obey  Him  alway  willingly; 

To  abide  Him  alway  patiently; 

To  thank  Him  alway  thankfully; 

To  live  here  alway  vertuously; 

To  use  thy  neighbour  honestly; 

To  looke  for  death  still  presently; 

To  helpe  the  poore  in  misery; 

To  hope  for  heaven's  felicity; 

To  have  faith,  hope,  and  charity; 

To  count  this  life  but  vanitie — 

Bee  points  of  Christianitie. —  Thomas  Tusser. 


The  Ministry  of  Angels. 

I  suppose  it  has  occurred  to  us  all  in  our  reading  of  the  Word  that  from 
"beginning  to  end  it  is  bright  with  the  rustling  of  angel  wings  and  sweet  with  the 
melody  of  angel  harps.  In  these  prosaic  days  we  are  slow  to  take  the  comfort  we 
might  from  the  assurances  never  revoked  that  the  help  of  heaven  is  always  ready 
to  be  given  us  in  our  hours  of  need.  The  age  is  material  and  prone  to  skepticism 
about  many  things  which  the  dear  lyord  is  ready  to  give  His  people  and  which  we 
may  have  for  the  asking.  One  of  these  blessed  things  about  which  we  care  little 
and  of  which  we  seldom  speak  and  for  which  we  seldom  pray  is  the  help  of  the 
angelic  host,  and  yet,  as  we  read  our  Bibles  we  find  that  men  of  old  were  often 
met  in  the  crises  of  their  life  by  messengers  from  above;  that  the  angels  came  to 
them  for  succor,  for  comfort,  for  warning,  for  strengthening,  and  that  again  and 
again  they  were  sent  to  God's  people  in  their  very  time  of  need.  Thus  an  angel 
wrestled  with  Jacob  the  livelong  night.  In  this  case  it  seems  as  if  it  may  have 
been  our  I^ord  Himself,  who  took  this  form  before  His  coming  as  a  babe  in 


46o  THE   MINISTRY   OF   ANGELS. 

Bethlehem,  and  once  and  again  went  to  the  relief  of  His  servants  for  one  or  another 
reason.  We  remember  Elijah  as  wearied  and  exhausted  after  his  conflict  with 
the  prophets  of  Baal  on  Mt.  Carmel,  and  threatened  by  Jezebel,  he  arose  and 
went  for  his  life  and  came  to  Beersheba,  and  after  that  went  a  day's  journey  into 
the  wilderness,  where  he  came  and  sat  down  under  a  juniper  tree,  and  there  he 
requested  for  himself  that  he  might  die;  and  as  he  lay  and  slept  the  sleep  of 
exhaustion  under  the  juniper  tree,  behold  !  an  angel  touched  him  and  said  unto 
him:  "  Arise  and  eat."  And  he  looked,  and,  behold  !  there  was  a  cake  baked  on 
the  coals  and  a  cruse  of  water  at  his  head.  Then  he  did  eat  and  drink,  and 
again  he  lay  down,  but  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  to  him  again  and  touched  him 
and  said:  "  Arise  and  eat,  because  the  journey  is  too  great  for  thee."  Here  we 
find  an  angel  sent  from  heaven  to  minister  to  the  material  wants  of  one  of  God's 
tired  children.  A  little  later  there  is  a  beautiful  story  told  of  Elisha  at  the  gate 
of  Samaria.  The  king  of  Syria  was  at  war  with  Israel,  but  constantly  Israel  pre- 
vailed over  Syria,  and  at  last  the  Syrian  king  became  convinced  that  there  were 
spies  in  his  camp  who  revealed  his  plans  to  his  enemy.  One  of  his  servants  said: 
' '  Not  so,  but  Elisha  the  prophet  that  is  in  Israel  telleth  the  King  of  Israel  the 
words  that  thou  speakest  in  thy  bedchamber. ' '  Then  this  king  gave  orders  that 
Elisha  should  be  sent  for,  and  to  capture  the  simple  prophet  of  the  Lord  there 
were  sent  horses  and  chariots  and  a  great  host,  and  they  came  by  night  and  com- 
passed the  city  of  Dothan,  where  the  prophet  was,  and  early  in  the  morning  when 
the  servant  of  the  man  of  God  went  forth,  behold  !  a  host  compassed  the  city  with 
horses  and  chariots,  and  the  servant  said:  "  Alas,  my  master,  how  shall  we  do?  " 
and  he  answered:  "  Fear  not;  for  they  that  be  with  us  are  more  than  the}'  that  be 
with  them."  And  Elisha  prayed  and  said:  "Lord,  I  pray  Thee  open  his  ej-es 
that  he  may  see."  And  the  Lord  opened  the  eyes  of  the  young  man  and  he  saw, 
and,  behold  !  the  mountain  was  full  of  horses  and  chariots  of  fire  round  about 
Elisha.  I  love  to  think  that  the  same  kind  care  which  was  over  God's  people  in 
olden  time  is  over  them  to-day;  that  still  in  our  hours  of  distress  and  anxiety  the 
angels  whose  place  it  is  to  minister  come  to  us  and  give  us,  invisible  as  they  are, 
the  strong  support  of  their  presence.  We  know  how  they  came  to  Christ,  how 
they  were  with  Him  in  His  lonely  hours.  He  said  on  one  occasion,  "  Thinkest 
ihou  that  I  cannot  now  pray  to  my  Father  and  he  shall  presently  give  me  more 
than  twelve  legions  of  angels?"  After  the  resurrection  angels  were  sitting  in 
the  place  where  the  Lord  had  lain,  and  after  the  ascension  an  angel  said  to  the 
disciples,  as  they  lingered  looking  upward  where  the  cloud  had  received  Him  out 
of  their  sight,  "  Ye  men  of  Galilee,  why  stand  ye  gazing  up  into  heaven?  "  Let 
us  take  heart  amid  the  vicissitudes  and  embarrassments  and  trials  of  life ;  let  us 
take  heart  when  around  us  the  night  gathers,  when  the  temptations  of  the  daj' 
seem  more  than  we  can  bear,  when  we  are  watching  by  our  sick  or  mourning 


IF   THE   LORD   SHOULD   COME.  461 

beside  our  dead.     Still,  as  in  the  old  days,  our  Lord  has  His  angel  hosts  who 
come  to  us  messages  of  sweetness  and  strength. 

Still  through  the  glowing  skies  they  come 

With  peaceful  wings  unfurled, 
And  still  celestial  music  floats 

O'er  all  the  weary  world. 
Above  its  sad  and  lowly  plains 

They  bend  on  heavenly  wing, 
And  ever  o'er  its  babel  sounds 

The  blessed  angels  sing. 

Oh,  you  beneath  life's  crushing  load 

-Whose  forms  are  bending  low, 
W^ho  toil  along  the  climbing  way 

With  painful  steps  and  slow, 
Look  up,  for  glad  and  golden  hours 

Come  swiftly  on  the  wing; 
Or  rest  beside  the  weary  wave 

And  hear  the  angels  sing. 

Better  still,  the  Lord  of  the  angels  is  always  ready  to  come  to  us  in  our 
•need.  We  have  onh'  to  send  one  little  prayer  of  faith  to  Him,  and  instantly  in 
some  way,  not  perhaps  recognized  by  us,  not  perhaps  just  in  the  way  we  expect, 
but  in  some  sweet  way  He  will  come  to  us,  blessing  us,  giving  us  just  what  we 
need. 


If  the  Lord  Should  Come. 

If  the  Lord  should  come  in  the  morning 

As  I  went  about  my  work, 
The  little  things  and  the  quiet  things 

That  a  servant  cannot  shirk, 
Though  nobod}^  ever  sees  them. 

And  only  the  dear  Lord  cares 
That  they  always  are  done  in  the  light  of  the  sun, 

Would  He  take  me  unawares  ? 

If  ni)'  Lord  should  come  at  noonday, 

The  time  of  the  dust  and  heat, 
When  the  glare  is  white,  and  the  air  is  still. 

And  the  hoof-beats  sound  in  the  street — 


462  "EVEN  SO,  COME,  LORD  JESUS." 

If  my  dear  Lord  came  at  noonda}*, 

And  smiled  in  my  tired  eyes, 
Would  it  not  be  sweet  His  look  to  meet  ? 

Would  He  take  me  b}^  surprise  ? 

If  m^'  Lord  came  hither  at  evening, 

In  the  fragrant  dew  and  dusk. 
When  the  world  drops  ofiF  its  mantle 

Of  daylight  like  a  husk, 
And  flowers  in  wonderful  beauty, 
And  we  fold  our  hands  and  rest, 
Would  His  touch  of  my  hand.  His  low  command, 

Bring  me  unhoped-for  zest  ? 

Why  do  I  ask  and  question  ? 

He  is  ever  coming  to  me, 
Morning  and  noon  and  evening, 

If  I  have  but  eyes  to  see. 
And  the  daily  load  grows  lighter, 

The  daily  cares  grow  sweet, 
For  the  Master  is  near,  the  Master  is  here, 

I  have  only  to  sit  at  His  feet. 


"  Even  So,  Come,  Lord  Jesus." 

Come  to  us,  Lord,  as  the  daylight  comes 
When  the  darkling  night  has  gone. 

And  the  quickened  East  is  tremulous 
With  the  thrill  of  the  wakened  dawn. 

Come  to  us,  Lord,  as  the  tide  comes  in 
With  the  waves  from  the  distant  sea; 

Come,  till  our  desert  places  smile, 
And  our  souls  are  filled  with  Thee. 

Come  to  us,  Lord,  as  the  mother  love 
Flows  out  to  the  babe  new -bom  ; 

So  come  to  us.  Lord,  as  the  mother's  kiss 
That  rouseth  the  child  at  mom. 


"EVEN   SO,  COME,  LORD  JESUS." 

Come  to  us  Lord,  as  comes  the  bloom 

To  the  kindhng  heart  of  the  rose; 
Come,  as  the  stir  of  a  vivid  life 

When  from  dreams  our  eyes  unclose. 

Come  to  us  Lord,  on  our  beds  of  pain, 

And  soothe  the  fevered  smart; 
Come  to  our  grief  and  our  loneliness, 

And  pillow  our  heads  on  Thy  heart. 

Come  to  us,  Lord,  when  the  tempter  dares 

Our  faltering  faith  to  smite; 
Come  that  the  powers  of  Satan  then 

May  haste  to  take  their  flight. 

Come  to  us,  Lord,  we  watch  for  Thee; 

We  shall  never  feel  surprise, 
If  sudden  we  lift  our  eyes  and  see 

The  day-spring  o'er  us  rise. 

Come  to  us,  Lord,  the  hour  is  late, 

The  night  is  slow  and  long; 
Come  to  us,  Lord,  and  bid  us  lift 

Redemption's  endless  song. 

— Margaret  E.  Sangster. 


463 


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